


Let the sun fade out to a darker sky

by NoContractTermination



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Graduate School, M/M, Marriage, Non-Chronological, Porn with Feelings, Post-Break Up, Post-Graduation, Separations, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoContractTermination/pseuds/NoContractTermination
Summary: "Yes, that Taeyong," Johnny said, and Doyoung flipped him the bird for no particular reason. It wasn’t an out of the ordinary occurrence, given the circumstances.Doyoung sputtered, "But I thought he was—""He’s been contracted back here in Korea for about a year," Johnny said.Shortly after breaking up with Doyoung, Taeyong moves to America for a graduate program and a lucrative job opportunity. Life, pushing all the stupid little pieces together, brings Taeyong back five years later for a work contract--  and to partner with Doyoung in planning their best friends' wedding.





	Let the sun fade out to a darker sky

**Author's Note:**

> \- Johnil is just a side pairing, though I do explore their interactions a bit  
> \- Other than that, please enjoy!

Doyoung only agreed to meet Taeyong on the condition that it was somewhere off campus. So of course Taeyong picked the cafe behind the supermarket Doyoung still shopped at every week, but like hell was Doyoung going to admit he still visited the place they grabbed drinks before almost being late to one of their first movie dates. Like hell was Doyoung going to let Taeyong ruin this place for him forever.

Doyoung was standing at checkout with a banana and a jar of organic peanut butter, and his anxiety was reaching record highs. It might be too late. 

The groceries were an excuse. In fact, Doyoung had it all planned out: he’d make a beeline straight for the register and think about his order for a bit to make sure Taeyong got a good look at his profile— his smooth skin, his jawline, and all the other signs that his life was absolutely in order. He’d order his drink with a dazzling smile, then wait at the counter while busying himself with his phone, making it look like he had a new life and new friends. And finally, finally when they called his order, after his drink was safe in his hands, he’d look down his nose with his chin tilted up, surveying the seating area for Taeyong. Johnny had once described that look on Doyoung as sexy but fatal, "intimidating to a fault." Looking intimidating, for Doyoung, could never be a fault. This might explain why he… actually had neither a new life nor new friends.

The plan continued. When Doyoung and Taeyong were almost finished discussing the necessary evils, Doyoung would jump and remember his groceries, precariously seated next to his feet, and tell Taeyong he had to get home. This served the dual purpose of 1. allowing Doyoung to exit the conversation gracefully on his own terms, and 2. cut any discussion of their "past" off before it even started. Unfortunately it also made it necessary to meet Taeyong again, but compromises had to be taken. They’d meet again anyway, if things went okay. After all, Doyoung agreed to do this for Taeil and Johnny, and he wouldn’t let some petty regrets get in the way of his friends’ happiness. Having an agenda for each meeting just helped keep everything between him and Taeyong strictly business-related. He would protect himself, because that was all he had.

Of course, when Doyoung pushed his way into the cafe, his eyes immediately darted side to side out of habit and met a shock of cotton-candy pink hair that he _knew_ belonged to Taeyong. 

Well, fuck. 

Doyoung looked down, but not quick enough; he caught Taeyong’s eye unwittingly, and Taeyong definitely saw him, and definitely met his gaze.

Everything was going spectacularly so far.

While distracted by the effort it took to look away from Lee Taeyong, Doyoung nearly toppled over the dividers that bordered the ordering queue. And in an attempt to keep his balance, he swung his paper bag of groceries right into the giant cardboard drink standee in front of the register. Doyoung saw _KEEP IT COOL!_ in bright yellow lettering flash in front of his eyes before he knocked into a display of gift cards that ended up scattered all over the floor in sparkly, bright disarray. 

Doyoung stared at the cashier, who stared back at him, then looked pointedly at the pile of plastic all over the floor, then looked back at Doyoung. Doyoung sighed and knelt down.

Leave it to Taeyong to, right at that moment, appear beside him with his spindly little chicken feet hands grasping at the gift cards futilely. Shit like this had always been Taeyong’s definition of "helping."

Doyoung would keep his cool. He would, as the cardboard standee instructed, maintain his composure and not speak to Taeyong or even acknowledge his existence. They would subconsciously sort through the patterns and each pick up their own separate matching gift cards in a silent understanding not to touch each other. They would gingerly place the cards back into the display in a motion so awkward it was almost comical all to avoid even the slightest bit of contact.

"Can I help you?" the cashier deadpanned when Doyoung finally stood up and everything was back in order. The kid actually saved Doyoung the embarrassment of having to clear his throat and speak first.

He cleared his throat anyway, because he was everything awkward bundled into one being. "Yeah, can I get a vanilla latte?" Doyoung said a little too loudly. "Iced?" he added quickly while the cashier was already in the middle of writing on the paper cup reserved for hot drinks.

The kid stared at Doyoung for a while before sighing and throwing the half-written paper cup straight at the floor. "Would that be all," he said, snatching a plastic cup instead, and as Doyoung opened his mouth to speak, Taeyong interrupted.

"Add an iced coffee to that?" he said. "Sugar, no milk?"

His voice was just like Doyoung remembered. Low but gentle, firm but with a bit of give. It crackled at the edges like dry wood. The cashier walked back to fill Taeyong’s order, and Doyoung, for all his efforts, finally glared down at Taeyong, who was looking straight back at him. The gaze was unnerving. Doyoung planned to chide him for interrupting, or even possibly question who he was and pretend he didn’t know him. He’d thought of hissing how Taeyong expected him to pay for this, or maybe snarking out a _long time no see, stranger_. But in the face of Taeyong’s look, all those possibilities immediately dissolved into a fit of emotion, breathless and raw. Taeyong had always been able to do that to him without even trying. That was part of why Doyoung had broken up with him all those years ago; a small part, just a minuscule touch in a whole complicated web of interwoven reasons why they weren’t working out, but it was a part.

"Would that be all?" the cashier repeated, handing Taeyong the drink, and Taeyong nodded.

"I’ll take it," he said lowly and definitely directed at Doyoung. Doyoung looked away, a little to the left and upward toward some random place he went to when he wanted nothing more than to melt straight into the ground. 

Oh yes, things were going absolutely swimmingly.

—

"It’s been a while," Taeyong said as soon as Doyoung’s ass hit the chair.

"Yes," Doyoung replied, wrapping his hands around his cup so tightly it started forming dents. 

Taeyong was a fearful man. Yes, he feared a lot of things, like horror movies, spiders, and Jaehyun’s friend Sicheng. Doyoung theorized that the only reason Taeyong exuded such an uncharacteristically intimidating aura was because his body was trying to protecting itself, and Taeyong just went along with it. He feared silences too, which was why he hung around Doyoung so often, especially when they went out in groups; Doyoung reckoned that to Taeyong, he felt like a strong enough presence that by the time they got home, Taeyong had grown comfortable with just being around Doyoung even if all he did was lie in bed and scroll through Twitter. 

They were even roommates in their second year of college, surprising everyone in their friend group. "But you guys fight so much," said Taeil sadly; he was looking out for Doyoung in his own little way despite not really understanding anything. Taeyong was clean and Doyoung was organized, which was all you could really ask for from a pair of roommates. The bickering just added a bit of spice to an otherwise bland, awkward relationship. They were young, wiry, anxious students finding their way in the world and feeling each other out and finding solace in the fact that they were everything different but also everything alike.

"It’s just that you only see us when we’re fighting, that’s all," Doyoung said, deciding not to take the time to explain everything to Taeil. He could save that for if he and Taeyong ever got together, which was a long shot at the time.

Needless to say, they totally got together. They started hooking up when they both left the room empty at the same time and started finding each other at the same events and even ran into each other at a gay bar one Friday night when the bar was hosting a student discount night. "What are you doing here," Taeyong yelled, bookended by that awkward laugh he always did when he was pretending to be drunk. Taeyong would never get drunk in public, and neither would Doyoung, not at that age when things were too precarious and public images were too important.

Doyoung shrugged and someone pushed him straight into Taeyong so that they were chest to chest. "What are _you_ doing here?" Doyoung shouted back in the most generic response of the century. 

"Just… wanted to let loose a little?" Taeyong replied and grinned hesitantly.

Okay, so they were going to do that. Just casually tiptoe around the elephant in the room. "Same," said Doyoung, and Taeyong nodded and continued swaying his hips to the music.

Taeyong, for as awkward as he was, could move. Doyoung stood in the small space between the bar and the dance floor, bobbing his head stiffly and switching his glass (of water) from hand to hand for something to hold onto.

"You don’t look very loose," Taeyong yelled again, and Doyoung put his drink down and rubbed his arm, facing the inevitable. 

"I haven’t had enough alcohol for this," Doyoung said, turning around to the bar to order something when Taeyong grabbed his arm.

"You don’t need alcohol to have fun," he said; his voice felt sincere and concerned, but he was suddenly way too close with how quiet he was speaking, and his breath brushed across Doyoung’s shoulder and the back of his neck. The tank top Doyoung had decided to wear to this was not one of his better decisions. Taeyong’s hand around Doyoung’s bicep was clammy and hot, and in this atmosphere, that was the little assurance he needed.

Doyoung turned around abruptly again and almost bumped his nose into Taeyong’s forehead. "Wanna go back home?" he blurted out. 

Taeyong paused and stared at Doyoung for a long while, his eyes looking exceptionally sober. He opened his mouth to speak, and Doyoung subconsciously licked his lips. It was a nervous habit, but Taeyong’s gaze locked onto his tongue until it flicked to his neck when Doyoung swallowed. "Sure," Taeyong said lowly, and he traced Doyoung’s arm as he let go of it, making the hairs on the back of Doyoung’s neck stand up. 

And like the emotionally constipated college boys they were, they walked back to their dorm in silence, letting the heat dissipate into the air. Except as soon as they stumbled into their dorm room, Taeyong grabbed both of Doyoung’s arms and kissed him hard on the mouth as if he knew exactly what Doyoung needed. Doyoung only noticed then that he’d been half hard this whole time but couldn’t give a rat’s ass if Taeyong was staring, because right now Taeyong’s lips were working his mouth open so good that Doyoung’s legs were going wobbly. He was on his knees as soon as Taeyong let him go, bracing his hands on the door and nuzzling at Taeyong’s crotch. Taeyong fucked his mouth against the door that night slow and gentle because it was Doyoung’s first time giving someone a blowjob. Though he _did_ do "research," as he did with every situation he could possibly encounter, casual sex with your roommate and arguably best friend just happening to be one that he’d done quite a bit of reluctant research on in the way of blurry wet dreams and intrusive thoughts. 

Taeyong reassured him it was good that night as they climbed into their separate beds as usual after washing the come off their faces and hands (mostly Doyoung, because he ended up coming in his pants while sucking Taeyong’s dick). 

Yeah, that was probably when they started hooking up. When that became dating was when Yuta ordained it by bringing it up like the stupid but insightful person he was, being the only one in their friend group to pick up on it. Leave it to Yuta to latch onto any hint of sexual tension among the lot of them. 

"I guess we’re dating now," Taeyong said on the walk back to their dorm in the chilly autumn air. It was dark, and Doyoung couldn’t see the expression on Taeyong’s face, but he always sounded mildly content anyway in his own hesitant way. 

"Yeah, I guess we are," said Doyoung, and Taeyong laughed. 

They’d had sex _a lot_ prior to that. They were frustrated and sensitive; they walked around naked after taking showers, they drank together in the dorm until they were a bit woozy, they showed each other porn on their laptops, all the things normal roommates did, just with sex as a possible outcome of all that. The relationship aspect was just something they both procrastinated talking about for as long as possible for no other reason than that they were afraid.

"Can I kiss you?" Taeyong said unexpectedly, and Doyoung faltered a little in his steps. Sure he’d let Taeyong kiss him. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done that before hundreds of times; they didn’t have one of those weird agreements where if there weren’t romantic feelings they weren’t allowed to kiss. Kissing was just all part of the foreplay, and Taeyong was damn good with his tongue. 

"Sure," Doyoung said softer than he intended. 

Taeyong stepped in front of him and Doyoung stopped walking and squinted down at Taeyong, his hands shoved in his pockets and knees stiff. Taeyong reached up and took Doyoung’s face in his hands, his fingers cold, and kissed him softly on the mouth. And Doyoung melted into the kiss immediately, but Taeyong was content in sucking on Doyoung’s bottom lip and nipping it until it was tender and kissing him over and over again until Doyoung felt warm but not particularly aroused, just _warm_. 

"Thanks," Taeyong mumbled against Doyoung’s lips, maybe because Doyoung hadn’t moved to touch Taeyong at all besides in response to the kiss.

"You don’t have to… thank me," said Doyoung.

Taeyong laughed lightly. "I know, but it feels like I should."

And he wasn’t wrong. Doyoung felt it too, like he was letting Taeyong do something to him, though not without his own consent and benefit, too. That was what was so hard about it: knowing that what might feel good in the moment, what might have its tangible, justifiable benefits, wasn’t always necessarily the best answer. Doyoung at the time didn’t understand what could go wrong with that, being so exhausted by the level of control and preparation he had to have in his everyday life that he crashed and burned when it came time to dealing with feelings, and his impulse control, carefully constructed like a glass castle, came crumbling down. And, like shattered glass, there was no way to pick up the pieces without hurting himself in the process. 

—

"The ice is gonna melt," Taeyong mumbled after clearing his throat. He was never particularly good at transitions.

Doyoung had been holding his cup so long the condensation around the outside was starting to pool in the little crevices in his hands. It felt wet and sticky and gross. The ice was nowhere near melting, but Taeyong had completely downed his coffee and was probably getting bored of waiting for Doyoung to say something. Doyoung was waiting for Taeyong of course— it was a pride thing— but this didn’t feel like much of a win because Doyoung had spent the time reminiscing about a troubled past in the first place and never actually escaping the little domain Taeyong had built around them in this cafe. "Maybe I like my coffee watered down," Doyoung replied, and the corner of Taeyong’s mouth quirked up.

"Not the Doyoung I know," he said reflexively, and Doyoung made a face. Of course Taeyong had to go and say something like that. Something that implied they _did_ know each other. Couldn’t he just let Doyoung live this fantasy for a little bit longer? Wondering what it would’ve been like had they just met each other now; how Doyoung would’ve seen Taeyong without all the baggage, without the knowledge that he could do something so heartless to Doyoung. Not that Doyoung had been completely free of fault, though he only acknowledged it because accepting that he wasn’t perfect was a lot easier than trying to defend himself against such an inevitable truth. "You like your coffee as strong as you like your men," Taeyong said, and Doyoung let out a pained sigh. "… Too soon?"

"Much too soon," Doyoung said, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples. "Let’s just get this over with."

Taeyong seemed to shift his entire weight when he moved forward to lean on the table across from Doyoung and look directly at him. "Doyoung, you know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be," he said lowly.

"Then I’m glad the feeling is mutual," Doyoung snapped back, ignoring the wish somewhere in there. "I don’t want to be here either, so let’s just keep this on topic."

"I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m—"

"Taeyong," Doyoung said. "I don’t know, nor do I care what you’ve been up to for the past who knows how long. The fact is I’m Taeil- _hyung_ 's best friend, and you’re Johnny’s, and we’re gonna throw them the wedding they deserve, so can we keep our past out of this?"

Taeyong rolled his lips between his teeth and played with the corner of his napkin. His fingers seemed even more chicken-like than before. "Of course," he said finally. "You’re right."

It looked like he was about to open his mouth to speak again, and who would Doyoung be if he didn’t steamroll right over it? So Doyoung went on. "Have you ever been to the botanical gardens?" he started loudly, and Taeyong shrunk back a little.

"No," he said quietly. Doyoung stared, and Taeyong, as if he felt under some intense scrutiny said, even smaller than before, "I’ve been away."

Doyoung sighed. "Right. Of course." Doyoung had taken a trip alone out there a week ago and grabbed two copies of every brochure and map they had, just to be safe. He spread the main one out across the small table in front of them then. "I mean, it’s over 10 acres, so we have to make sure people can find the main entrance and conservatory building. Plus, with the whole parking situation— it’s something we have to include on the formal invitation. Do you think we should make a Facebook page or web—" 

"Why don’t we go there together?" Taeyong said suddenly. 

Doyoung’s first reaction was to scoff. Taeyong, though, did not falter like he would have five years ago. He stared at Doyoung with a completely straight face, his mouth pulled in a determined line. "You’re serious?" Doyoung said, his eyebrows shooting up.

Taeyong eased up and snorted a little and played with a wrinkle in the brochure. "We’re gonna have to go there some time, you know. We can’t plan the whole wedding without knowing the venue inside and out."

"Well, I’ve already been there so I figured you could just go on your own time," said Doyoung testily, watching Taeyong’s hands. 

"And what, plan the whole thing in my head until you shoot down all of my ideas?"

"Taeyong—"

Taeyong flattened his hands against the table firmly, though not aggressively. "Doyoung, I know you’re trying to avoid me," he said.

Doyoung went quiet, expecting Taeyong to say something else, but he stayed silent as if that was all he wanted to point out. Finally, after a tense silence, Doyoung mumbled, "Is that so wrong of me?"

Taeyong sighed and his shoulders sunk a little. "No," he replied. "I— no, it’s not." He leaned back then and stared out the window. The setting sun seemed to illuminate his skin and cast a warm glow on all the high points that felt so lifeless an hour ago, when Doyoung had first seen him in the cafe. It was as if Taeyong hadn’t spoken up for himself since he’d left, and the blood rushing to his face as he and Doyoung reluctantly fell into familiar banter worked to snap him out of a decade-long period of hibernation. Taeyong looked too pleasant to be saying, "To tell you the truth, I don’t want to do this with you either."

Doyoung huffed and rolled his eyes. "You think I don’t already know that?"

Taeyong hunched forward then as if he were giving Doyoung some confidential information. His eyes sparkled a little under his heavy brow. "That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you, though."

Doyoung hated that he felt his heart do a little flip. It wasn’t fair that Taeyong could just come back into his life and mess everything up like this, right when his wounds were finally scabbing over. If Doyoung admitted that he didn’t want to see Taeyong now, it would be a loss. But he couldn’t admit that he _did_ want to see him either. 

"I didn’t want to meet up with you— for the first time in… well, not like this," Taeyong continued. "But this is the only way you’d have me."

Taeyong wasn’t wrong. Taeil was the most important person in Doyoung’s life right now without any other nearby friends or family to dote on. Doyoung sometimes felt a little bad for Johnny when Doyoung badgered him for hours to be sure to treat Taeil right and hounded his every action and threatened to beat his ass for the smallest of mistakes. Johnny probably should’ve hated him at this point, but they bonded with their mutual interest in Taeil’s wellbeing. That, and Johnny was admittedly a good-natured guy. 

That being said, Taeyong wasn’t someone who’d devise something like this either. He was never a meddler. It was not in his best interests to meet Doyoung like this, but everyone knew Doyoung would do anything for Taeil, and Taeyong was Johnny’s best and most organized friend. Everyone also knew how well Taeyong and Doyoung worked together; it was even how they met, sharing a business class and partnering up for the entire semester. They worked like a well-oiled machine, as long as there were no feelings involved, but it was too late for that. It was probably detrimental to everyone and the entire world that Doyoung and Taeyong ended up hooking up that one time. Imagine what they could’ve accomplished as coworkers and nothing more. 

"Anyway," Taeyong said with a sigh after Doyoung’s long, spiteful silence. "I’m serious. Let’s take a look at the venue. Together."

"Not together," Doyoung replied, and Taeyong wilted. " _At the same time_ ," Doyoung went on. Taeyong perked up and had the nerve to laugh. It was a pretty good comeback. 

"As far away from each other as possible," Taeyong continued with a grin, and Doyoung let his mouth flip up into a hesitant smirk.

"Opposite ends of the garden," said Doyoung. 

"Roger," Taeyong replied. 

—

Doyoung eventually had to chase after Taeyong stupidly down the sidewalk after forgetting to get his number. "You sure?" Taeyong said, typing his name into Doyoung’s phone, and Doyoung huffed. Taeyong had a gentle, amused smile on for a while before turning serious and glancing up at Doyoung while handing his phone back. "Really, you—"

"It’s been five years, Taeyong," Doyoung deadpanned. "I’m over it. I’m over you." He didn’t miss Taeyong’s hand linger on his phone for a moment as Taeyong paused, though Doyoung didn’t pull away. 

"Yeah," Taeyong replied tentatively. "Yeah."

Doyoung wasn’t over Taeyong. But at least he was better at hiding it than Taeyong was. Doyoung started laughing, and Taeyong followed suit, probably about the same thing. "What are we doing?" Doyoung said, turning away from Taeyong and looking into the parking lot. 

"Making this easier for ourselves?" said Taeyong, and he was right. Though it was just as hard to shove down lingering feelings as it was to act on them, but neither of them knew any other way. "Just… don’t avoid me, okay?"

"I can’t make any promises," Doyoung said, and Taeyong sighed.

"I know," replied Taeyong. "Once you set your mind on something…"

"I haven’t changed, have I?" Doyoung said, and Taeyong kicked him lightly.

"I can’t tell for sure yet," he said. 

Doyoung frowned as he scrolled through his contacts and messaged Taeyong while they were right there. "I don’t want you to be able to tell."

"That’s impossible, and you know it."

To put it bluntly, Taeyong was a behavioral analyst. He was damn good at it, too, graduating near the top of his class and going straight from a psychology B.S to multiple job offers in the field, which was rare if not unheard of. He went to grad school anyway on a scholarship sponsored by a government-affiliated corporation which had an offer lined up for him when he graduated from _that_ , so to hide something from Taeyong was an impossible task. Especially for Doyoung, whom Taeyong latched onto and read like his favorite childhood book, over and over again, noticing something new each time.

Doyoung smirked. "When was I ever someone who aimed low?"

They’d been standing there for a while. It was still chilly; the earliest breaths of winter were climbing over each other to make themselves known that afternoon. The wedding was scheduled for August. Johnny and Taeil had reserved the conservatory a year in advance a few days after Johnny proposed. They were one of those couples who had no problem agreeing on things, and even if they argued, they’d badger each other until one of them faltered. Two relatively positive people had that kind of power over each other; it was easy for them to see the reasons why the other would choose to believe or behave that way. The outdoor wedding was Taeil’s idea, and the venue was Johnny’s. Taeil wasn’t good with details, nor did he have a particularly concrete memory, even with all the souvenir magnets they had tacked to their fridge. Having someone else plan the wedding was Johnny’s idea, and approaching Doyoung about it was Taeil’s. 

Doyoung actually hadn’t reacted that badly at first, given the circumstances. "You’re going to kill me," Taeil moaned when they went out to eat together earlier that summer, the three of them. Taeil confessed to not knowing where Doyoung felt less like a third wheel, their house or a restaurant, and Doyoung frankly didn’t know either. Not that Doyoung didn’t enjoy the couple's company from time to time, but it was more that he felt like he was imposing or making _them_ feel uncomfortable with his presence, and that made him avoid them for long stretches of time and wallow in his own, lonely misery. 

"He won’t kill you," Johnny said to Taeil, rubbing his thumb over the band on Taeil’s finger, and Taeil shivered. Sensitive, wonderful Taeil. 

"He’s right," said Doyoung. "You survived that time you slept through _both_ of our finals junior year, and nothing could be as bad as that."

Taeil pursed his lips thoughtfully. When he finally spoke, it was to say, "You’d be surprised," and Doyoung groaned and rolled his eyes. 

"Just get on with it, for our sanity, _please_ ," Doyoung said. "You’re not moving away, are you? Dying of an incurable disease? Secretly smuggling drugs out of the country?"

"You know he doesn’t have the foresight to accomplish something like that," Johnny said, and Taeil bumped his shoulder.

"… Or the connections," Taeil ended up adding, and Doyoung laughed. 

"You’re already having me plan one of the most important events in your life, so I don’t know what could really make that kind of pressure _worse_ ," Doyoung added, and Johnny snorted.

"You know, Doyoung can be surprisingly optimistic sometimes in his own way," he said. Johnny always did this thing where he seemed to making side comments to Taeil even though they were clearly meant for the whole group to hear. Taeil had just kind of defaulted into living in Johnny’s brain as the center of his whole world, which was not too far off from the way Johnny treated him in reality. 

Taeil breathed evenly, in measured breaths, recalling a technique Doyoung had taught him back in college. "Okay, I—" Taeil started, then paused again, and Doyoung had to resist shaking him by the shoulders like they were in college again. "… We’ve arranged for you… we’ve arranged a… partner?" Taeil said in a small voice, as if regretting it more the more words that came out of his mouth. "… In planning? A partner in planning."

Doyoung frowned. "I thought you said this was bad news," he said. "Though I do work better alone most of the time, but having help isn’t—"

"It’s Taeyong," Taeil blurted out. For as long as he took to roll out the the first part, the news about it being Taeyong just kinda tumbled out clumsily. Maybe Taeil had been just so endearing at the time that Doyoung didn’t have the heart to slam his drink down and walk right out of the restaurant then. 

"Lee Taeyong," Doyoung said pathetically. What other Taeyongs were there?

"Yes, that Taeyong," Johnny said, and Doyoung flipped him the bird for no particular reason. It wasn’t an out of the ordinary occurrence, given the circumstances. 

Doyoung sputtered, "But I thought he was—"

"He’s been contracted back here in Korea for about a year," Johnny said.

"That’s suspiciously good timing," said Doyoung, and Johnny rolled his eyes.

"You know he would’ve come to the wedding—"

"I’m not saying _attend_ the wedding, I’m saying—"

"And you know I would’ve picked someone else if he wasn’t available," Johnny finished, his eye twitching. "He’s my best friend, Doyoung. You know that, too."

Taeyong was always a sore spot between Doyoung and Johnny. Well, Taeyong was a sore spot for Doyoung in general, but especially with Johnny, who didn’t _blame_ Taeyong for what happened, but didn’t really go out of his way to defend Doyoung either after everything went down. Which was also a sore spot for Doyoung; wishy-washy people like that were the absolute worst. Cowards. Doyoung hoped at the time the friendship between Taeyong and Johnny would just magically dissolve when Taeyong moved to America, but of course Johnny kept in contact with him. Johnny was a frightfully good friend. 

Taeil had said Doyoung was going to kill him, but Taeil's real fear was probably this decision driving a wedge between Johnny and Doyoung, he just didn’t know how to vocalize it. And it probably would have if Doyoung were 18 and this wasn’t Johnny and Taeil’s literal wedding. 

"It’s fine," Doyoung said after a long while of Johnny and Taeil staring at him. They (and Taeyong) were probably the only ones in the world who knew not to bother Doyoung when he was in thought. 

"Really?" Taeil and Johnny said at the same time, Taeil hopefully and Johnny with an air of suspicion.

"Yes, you asshole, stop looking at me like that," Doyoung snapped, glaring at Johnny, and Johnny put his hands up defensively and slumped back in his seat to toss an arm around Taeil’s shoulders. "I’m a mature adult. I can handle this." Johnny and Taeil both laughed at that, and Doyoung grinned, giving them his best fake-pout immediately after. "Just because I’m younger than you two, god."

"We can’t help but worry, Doyoungie," Taeil said, and Doyoung rolled his eyes. "About your wellbeing."

"Okay, just because I’m in grad school doesn’t mean I’m having a mental breakdown every day," said Doyoung, and Johnny snorted.

"Actually, it does."

Johnny was right. Doyoung glared at him. "I can _handle_ it," Doyoung repeated. "What can Taeyong do to me that grad school hasn’t already?"

Johnny opened his mouth, probably to say something either dirty or stupid, because a moment later he was groaning and holding his side where Taeil had elbowed him particularly hard. 

Doyoung’s stomach dropped as soon as he left the restaurant. And he’d made the mistake of thinking his stomach couldn’t possibly fall any lower; it absolutely ended up dropping lower when the alcohol wore off. 

_Lee Taeyong._ Doyoung ended up having a nightmare about him that night. 

Objectively, he’d had worse. He’d gotten through nightmares about Taeyong dying, about himself dying, about Taeyong breaking down into tears in the middle of the street and bystanders staring at Doyoung as if he’d killed him. These had all passed in rapid succession immediately after Taeyong broke the news that he was going to America for grad school, and Doyoung just sort of had to sit there and take it all in while the others in their friend group congratulated him and asked tons of questions and gave him obscure restaurant recommendations (courtesy of Johnny, so excited at any mention of America that he’d completely disregarded the fact that Taeyong was planning to study in Los Angeles which was, to Doyoung’s knowledge, nowhere near Chicago). 

Ironically, only Jaehyun had checked on him that night, murmuring a quiet, "You okay?" to Doyoung as they all left the bar and went their separate ways. Doyoung and Jaehyun lived in the same direction from there, and if Doyoung hadn’t spent his entire college career occupied with the emotional rollercoaster that was his relationship with Lee Taeyong, he and Jaehyun might’ve become good friends. How many other opportunities had Taeyong taken from him only to leave in the end and not even have to spend every day reminded by the places and people Doyoung and Taeyong had used to hurt each other and mend everything up, only to hurt each other again.

Doyoung probably wouldn’t have given anyone the time of day that night, not even Taeil. It wasn’t Jaehyun himself but the fact that Jaehyun was the only one who’d spared him a second worry that infuriated Doyoung. "I’m fine," Doyoung snapped, burying himself into his scarf a little more and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"M’kay _hyung_ ," Jaehyun said, and they walked side by side in silence. Jaehyun was no good at developing meaningful, lasting relationships. Something in him hadn’t matured enough to consider that important yet, and Doyoung remembered suddenly being filled with a wave of sadness, regretting that he hadn’t spent more of his days hanging around with his friends, late night study dates, bitter fights and weekend outings, worrying about the future together, and other things college kids were supposed to remember college by. The time with Taeyong had been nice, but it had consumed Doyoung completely in a way nothing ever had before during what was supposed to have been the most memorable few years of his life. And now Taeyong was leaving for good, and all their friends were graduating, and Doyoung felt like he didn’t really _know_ any of them, and none of them really knew him enough to want to stick around after this and maybe find an apartment with him or drink together routinely on the weekends.

So Doyoung did the only thing he knew how to do: he dug his heels in and buried himself in his work and put off dealing with real life feelings until the day came when he didn’t have any other choice. 

It was pure luck that Taeil and Johnny ended up moving in just a few train stops away. With how empty Doyoung felt after graduation, something in him must’ve adapted to befriend so closely someone like Moon Taeil, who had always sat diagonally across the table from Doyoung when they hung out with their group of friends and never spoke much except to hang onto Johnny’s arm or mutter something quiet that only Yuta ever found funny. Which was weird, because Yuta was probably the biggest bitch Doyoung ever had the pleasure of meeting, besides Taeyong on his bad days. So there must’ve been something redeeming about Taeil, and Doyoung, in his lonely, purposeless post-grad stupor, made it a point to found out what it was.

Doyoung did a lot for Taeil those early days right after they graduated. He turned the spite of hearing Taeyong say gently, "He’s a really nice guy, Doyoung. You just can’t help but love him," into energy to do everything in his power to make Taeil his very best friend in the world to the point that it made Johnny terribly jealous at one point and he threw a fit about it. But Taeil was quick to assure Doyoung that it was just Johnny being stressed and disagreeable, and they ended up working it out somehow. 

Taeyong was right, as he always was when he got a good read on people. Taeil was heart-wrenchingly endearing in the profoundest of ways. He listened well and was like a sponge for things that you just wanted to rant about because he rarely interjected and when he did it never made sense, anyway. So Doyoung ended up telling Taeil everything about Taeyong, and Taeil was independent— the type of person never to let anything affect his own idea of someone— so he took it well and was still able to be civil about Taeyong with Johnny. 

Anyway, that night was the first night Doyoung had dreamed about Taeyong in years. Doyoung had been working so hard preparing research grants, attending conferences, and teaching classes that he slept dark, dreamless nights that were never long enough; his phone alarm jolted him awake every morning, leaving him groggy with a headache and his heart nearly racing out of his chest.

Of course, that dream about Taeyong was pleasant and soft and hazy, covered with a pale yellow film like an old movie or those childhood spring days in the countryside when the pollen count was exceptionally high and Doyoung would have to sit inside surrounded by piles of used tissues and a shitty portable DVD player for entertainment. The dream took place at a wedding that was _distinctly_ Jaehyun’s, his partner unknown, and Doyoung and Taeyong were sitting at a table in the corner under a white tent at the reception, sipping champagne and watching the dance floor absently. Taeyong reached across the table and laced his fingers with Doyoung’s. Doyoung noted the obvious wedding band on his own ring finger, while Taeyong was holding him with his opposite hand so it was empty. Somewhere in the back of dream-Doyoung’s mind, he made a note to catch a glimpse of Taeyong’s left hand when he got the chance, to see if Taeyong was his mysterious plus one, but it registered in Doyoung’s dream-brain as a low-priority task. He was happy and at peace, lost in the music of the occasion. He woke up to happy, lazy silence, too, until the horror of it all settled in and his phone alarm went off a few minutes later. 

He would be seeing Taeyong again to plan Taeil and Johnny’s wedding. Taeyong would be in Korea in two weeks for a year long contract for his job, and they’d meet— on _purpose_. 

Doyoung had already started down the path of accepting that he’d never see Taeyong again in his life, which was maybe why he’d hoped that Johnny and Taeyong would forget about each other. It was easier to accept that he’d never see Taeyong again, which would give him the space and time he needed to get over it. It was all happening too fast, even after five years, and Doyoung wasn’t ready to be friends with Taeyong just yet. 

Which was why by now, he’d come up with this elaborate plan to keep things completely business between them, but now Taeyong was standing in front of him for longer than necessary, they’d exchanged personal numbers just from letting the situation progress naturally, and they were planning a date to the conservatory, just the two of them, where their only company would be each other and the sounds of a million flowers and greenery arranged in beds and humming in pink and red and white major. 

—

Doyoung arrived early that weekend, as he always did. Taeyong wouldn’t be there any earlier than the scheduled time, but he was never late by more than five minutes, either. The air felt heavy with humidity and an impending storm, the skies bright but overcast, giving you the feeling of staring at a fresh piece of paper. Rain in the fall was never pleasant, and the air smelled soggy and rotten while the chill still got under your skin and crept into your bones. Doyoung passed time by loitering in the lobby, leafing through the pamphlets he’d already memorized, and trying not to throw up.

Things could go really well or really badly. At this point, Doyoung didn’t know which he preferred. So often was it a clear difference of opinion between his mind and his heart, and his only job was to pick the best option for the situation. But this time, his heart was still hurting from five years ago, while his brain thought that maybe if this went well, the whole thing would be less painful overall. And of course, there was the half of him that still had feelings for Taeyong, against which his heart was fighting a battle that it was losing pathetically. 

Doyoung spotted Taeyong running up the drive a minute before they agreed to meet, his hands in his pockets and the lower half of his face buried in his turtleneck. A black beret pressed his fading pink hair flat against his forehead. It had been a week since they’d last seen each other, and the indescribable feeling bubbling up in Doyoung’s belly was no less intense than before. The feeling seemed to cook up some sort of stew of every possible thing that could go wrong and fling it boiling at Doyoung’s person until he was off in a corner panicking about how he hadn’t prepared enough for this. Who would say hi first? What if Taeyong completely missed him and walked inside? What would he say when Taeyong asked how long he’d been waiting? What if the receptionist thought they were a couple?

"Doyoung!" Taeyong called, snapping Doyoung out of it. He looked right at Taeyong before realizing that it was probably too obvious he’d seen him already but said nothing. Taeyong grinned at him anyway like he didn’t notice and held the door open to the atrium, and warm air flooded around them from inside the lobby. 

They bought passes to the entire outdoor grounds and the butterfly room, which was a high-ceilinged tropical greenhouse that was kept so humid inside Doyoung felt like he was drunk on it. Skinny-boned Taeyong, though, who always ran cold, seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"It says here that emperor butterflies are so blue because of the iridescent scales on their wings," Taeyong said, staring up a large tree in the middle of the atrium with stairs and a platform built around it to access a better view from high ground. "So it’s easier to see the color when they’re moving."

Doyoung didn’t hate bugs, but living, moving things in general made him squeamish, so he stood stiffly in a corner with his hands in his pockets, watching Taeyong take a few pictures of a pair of painted lady butterflies that had just landed on the placard. 

There was something different about Taeyong now compared to before; it was noticeable but not easily placed. Yuta would probably say Taeyong looked taller, and Johnny would ask if he gained weight before commenting that he looked healthier now. Neither of those things were true. Doyoung knew every inch of Taeyong’s body and could see under his clothes that he was fundamentally the same, but the way he _carried_ himself was different. There was less spring in his step, but despite that, he seemed happier. He was calmer: more stable, in a way. America was good for him; he found what he needed there. 

It was some time ago when Doyoung was at the peak of his bitterness that he wished something horrible would happen in America, or that Taeyong would fall into a depressive rut worse than the one he’d already been in after their official breakup. It was on one of Doyoung’s worse days when he was drinking with Yuta, of all people, when he finally realized how bad those thoughts were getting.

"It makes sense though," Yuta said. Summer was ending; Yuta would be leaving soon to pursue a job offer he’d gotten back in Japan, Jaehyun still wasn’t back from his internship in Boston yet, and Doyoung would be diving into another 6 years of school for the sole purpose of putting off making life-changing decisions that he wasn’t ready to make. They were sitting on the porch of Doyoung’s apartment, looking at the hazy nighttime sky and nursing soju between the two of them. "I mean, you really, truly hated him."

"But I don’t!" Doyoung wailed into the muggy air. There was nowhere for his voice to go, so it just bounced against the brick wall of the apartment building next door and deflated sadly into the alleyway below. 

"But you did, at one point," Yuta pointed out. He sighed and squinted up at the sky, as if it were too bright. "There were— no, there _are_ times where you really hate him, and times where you really love him. There are both. You have to accept that."

"When did you get so philosophical?" muttered Doyoung, and Yuta laughed.

"Just offering you some of my profound wisdom for free before I leave and you regret you never asked me for it."

Doyoung scoffed. "As if anyone would ever ask you for advice."

Yuta balked in fake offense. "You take that back! Did you know Taeyong went into behavioral science because of me?"

"Shut up, really?" Doyoung said, forgetting his temporary grief with Yuta for blank curiosity. He was too drunk and too miserable to remember that he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Taeyong. 

"Yep," Yuta said proudly. "We had one of these talks, just like this, back when he was still debating whether or not you were gay, and—"

"He _what_?" Doyoung snapped, and Yuta laughed.

"Did I not tell you that before? He was totally into you for, like, ever but he only ever talked to me about it because I wouldn’t let him live it down." Yuta leaned back on his hands and wiggled his toes. "Back then he couldn’t even tell you were _gay_ , Doyoung. Think about how far he’s come in the field of behavioral analysis."

"I’d rather not," Doyoung replied, and Yuta clapped him on the shoulder.

"It’s okay. There’ll be times when you’ll think about him whether you want to or not," Yuta said.

Doyoung rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don’t know, Rousseau."

Yuta hummed. "Accepting it will save you a lot of grief, you know."

"I’ve already accepted that he’s leaving," Doyoung said bitterly. "Doesn’t mean I can’t still be angry about it."

"No, not that," Yuta said, waving Doyoung off. "You don’t have to accept that he’s leaving, or even that you guys aren’t together anymore. Hell, I’m all for people fighting for what they want," he continued. If there was a wish or some sort of encouragement in there, Doyoung didn’t want to hear it. "But just, accepting your thoughts. And that they’re just gonna happen. You don’t have to control them, because no one has to know what you’re thinking." Yuta jabbed his finger at Doyoung’s forehead, and Doyoung glared at him and was about to call him out on insolence until he remembered that Yuta was in fact older than him. "There’s no one in there but you. Not even Taeyong."

Even though it certainly seemed like it sometimes, with how much and how well Taeyong studied people. But Doyoung was projecting. Taeyong, five years ago, would straight up tell Doyoung what he thought he was thinking. It was one of the ways Taeyong impressed himself, because he was kind of insecure and sensitive inside and didn’t know how else to deal with it. He didn’t do that anymore, not for the past week they’d been talking. That was why Taeyong seemed calmer now: he was less prone to compulsively reading people’s minds. He had a handle on what he could take and what he couldn’t; he was better able to control the information flow. He learned to, instead of compulsively wring and squeeze and wrestle more and more information out of the world around him, simply let the world be. After all, that information wasn’t going anywhere if he knew where to look. Taeyong _was_ insecure back then, not only in himself but also in his own abilities, somehow getting the idea that if he let the moment pass, everything would slip away from him. Taeyong had been neurotic in ways that Doyoung didn’t understand, and Doyoung was antsy about things that Taeyong found unimportant. Except now, Taeyong had changed profoundly. What was Doyoung, then?

"Don’t move," Taeyong was saying lowly, holding up his camera. 

And against all odds, Doyoung stayed stiffly, uncharacteristically still. It took his entire being not to reach up and slap at whatever was perched on his shoulder. It took even more willpower not to run off screaming. Doyoung stared at Taeyong with fiery, defiant eyes that still held a plea somewhere in there, underneath the way they glistened and glittered right after he yawned or how they would sparkle when he looked up. 

Doyoung wasn’t sure if wanting Taeyong back was the right answer, but not knowing was a thought that he’d also have to accept. Yuta taught him that. And Taeyong certainly wasn’t trying to get a read on Doyoung now; instead he was absorbed in the present, in capturing the essence of something so fleeting he couldn’t possibly look away. Taeyong was no longer trapped in his own mind but out here in the present, with the butterflies and the humidity and everything that Doyoung was putting out there for him, too. That was something the Taeyong of five years ago could never have done. And Doyoung felt a surge of warmth for it, like even if he hadn’t been a part of it, he felt happy for whatever journey had changed Taeyong as a person and given him the magic of a more fulfilling life. 

When Taeyong moved his phone down and took a step toward Doyoung, something flittered near Doyoung’s ear, making him flinch. The moment was gone, and so was the butterfly. "I got some great pictures," Taeyong said, and Doyoung smiled weakly back at him. "That’s the first time I’ve seen you so calm around an animal."

"Yeah, well, I didn’t really have a choice, did I?" Doyoung muttered, and Taeyong laughed. 

"The Doyoung I know always has a choice," he said, and Doyoung made a face while walking on wobbly knees with Taeyong through the rest of the exhibit, jerking and grabbing reflexively for Taeyong’s arm whenever something flew past. "You make your own choices, Doyoung," Taeyong was saying, completely unbothered. "You’ve always been like that."

The implication in there that Doyoung might have _wanted_ to be still for Taeyong in that moment made Doyoung flush all over. He was not a freeze-er, though; he was either fight or flight, more often than not the latter, so holding still in the face of fear and realization had taken a whole lot, and he did it anyway.

So the moment passed. Taeyong hadn’t come to some revolutionary conclusion about Doyoung’s being. In fact, all they got out of it were some stupid pictures. And that was okay.

—

By the time they made it a good way into the grounds of the outdoor gardens, it seemed things were going too well. The gods must've wanted to forsake them, so out of nowhere, it started pouring. Neither of them noticed at first, so thick was the tree coverage in that section of the gardens, but the sounds of rain hitting the giant, exotic leaves of trees from far away gave it away. 

"Shit," Doyoung said without much anger or conviction, and Taeyong laughed. They ambled up the hill in silence, occasionally getting pelted by buckets of rain in the clearings between the trees, until they reached the rose garden just outside the conservatory. Of course, that particular garden was planned in completely exposed land, as roses needed plenty of sunlight to thrive, and the only rain-covering structure between them and the conservatory was a small arbor decorated with winding vines and foliage, probably designed as a good backdrop for wedding pictures. 

Taeyong must’ve been thinking the same thing, because he looked at Doyoung then and nodded. "On the count of three?"

"Like I have any other choice!" Doyoung repeated, and Taeyong laughed, clapping his shoulder.

They bolted for the arbor, the rain coming at them in waves, soaking Doyoung through no matter what way he tried to contort his body to keep at least one side of himself dry. It seemed to come from all directions, even dripping through his fringe and into his eyes. When Doyoung squeezed his eyes shut was when he finally noticed something fluttering behind him. It wasn’t until they reached the trellis, wet, sopping vines dripping into their faces, that Taeyong’s wet coat smacked Doyoung in the back and flopped over his eyes like a curtain. Doyoung pushed it aside and, panting, turned to Taeyong, who was just as wet but holding his coat over his head like a sad, ratty cape. It occurred to Doyoung that Taeyong had been trying to shield the both of them with it.

"Did you really think that would work?" Doyoung huffed out, hunched over and holding the side of the arbor, and Taeyong laughed and sniffled. 

"It was worth a shot," he said, and with his hair soaking into his eyes, he looked kind of cute, in a kind of pathetic way. 

Doyoung wrung out the corner of Taeyong’s coat; it was wool, and clearly designer. "Was it?" Doyoung wondered aloud, and Taeyong grinned. Doyoung sighed and stared longingly at the cafeteria some 50 feet away while rain blew through the arbor, but they were so wet at that point that it didn’t really register anymore. "This could’ve been avoided if we’d gone to the outside gardens first, like I _knew_ it was going to rain—"

"Doyoung, it’s fine," Taeyong said, reaching a hand out to touch Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung stilled but didn’t flinch away. "Things like these are fun, anyway. They’re what you remember your life by." 

"Get your analytic ass out of here," Doyoung said.

"Sorry," replied Taeyong, and Doyoung looked over at him. Taeyong took it more seriously than Doyoung had meant for it to be.

"No, I— it’s okay. I didn’t mean it," said Doyoung. "I was kidding."

"I know," Taeyong said. 

He threw his coat over the stone bench under the structure and sat down on it, patting the space next to him. Doyoung sat, crossing his legs and stiffening up as if making sure to stay in contact with the smallest surface area possible. The rain let up a little; the big drenching storms never lasted that long anyway, but Taeyong made no effort to move.

"I really mean it though," Taeyong said after a little while of silence between the two of them, just listening to the rain. Doyoung never found silence particularly uncomfortable, it was just that he never had time for it. The world was always moving ahead of him, and there were always things to read, people to see, topics to discuss. There was always something better he could be spending his time doing, to make it so that he had time some other time to spend moving down a checklist of things he found he never had time to do. Time came in increments and could be partitioned off and planned out down to the second, and there was no room on the schedule for periods of nothingness.

Yet sitting here with Taeyong wasn’t too bad. It was as if in his absence, Taeyong had somehow made himself a priority. All of this could be filed under the activity of _spending time with Taeyong_ , which was a real procedure that warranted a good chunk of time and made Doyoung feel like he was at least getting something done, maybe made him feel fulfilled, even, like he was accomplishing a task he’d put off for a while or facing something he’d always feared. 

Being with Taeyong was kind of like that, at least in the past, though he looked forward to it. Now it felt more like something he dreaded, but when they were out, it was fun. It was the difference between nervousness and true fear. Doyoung didn’t feel scared of Taeyong now like he was before; when they were out together like this, he forgot how nervous he’d been. There was no threat of Taeyong leaving him, because they weren’t together anymore at all. There was no compulsion to control every outcome of every situation to make sure it went as well as possible so that Taeyong would want to come back again. It would turn out however it happened. And that was okay.

—

"Did you talk to Taeil’s sister yet?" Taeyong said, nursing an overpriced "organic" coffee in the conservatory's small cafe. The rain cleared up to a miraculous blanket of sunshine while they still had been sitting out there, and Taeyong ended up snapping some pictures with Doyoung’s consent. He’d surprised himself by saying yes to that, wondering in what world Taeyong deserved to have pictures of him on his phone, but at the same time appreciated the little things that made Taeyong happy, surprising himself even more.

They still had to make a trip to the bathroom and stand under the blowdryers to dry off. Taeyong’s coat would need to be taken to the dry cleaners, and no way was Doyoung offering to pay for that. They looked like two wrinkled idiots just having walked out of the shower with all their clothes on by the time they made it back to the lobby. "Yeah, she said she doesn’t want to be in the wedding party," Doyoung said, and Taeyong snorted. "As expected. But she wants to officiate."

"Oh?" said Taeyong, breathing through his teeth to cool his tongue. "That’s an interesting development. But a good idea."

Doyoung chuckled softly. "Yeah, I’ll invite her on the wedding bus again later if she decides to change her mind."

"With a bunch of us nerdy dudes in our late 20s? She’d probably rather die," Taeyong replied. "If Yuta weren’t there she’d be more likely to say yes, probably."

"I don’t blame her," Doyoung said airily, and Taeyong laughed. Taeil’s sister hated Yuta so much that when Taeil broke the news that he was gay to her, she was so happy about it being Johnny and not Yuta that she seemed to forget about the whole gay part completely. Doyoung squinted at the sun shining directly onto their table through the greenhouse glass windows. "They’ll look great in white, Johnny and Taeil," he said.

Taeyong smiled tenderly, and the twinkle in his eyes never left, though it was dimmer but still content, like being tired after a long day of yard work. "I hope to god they get their suits custom tailored, especially Johnny," Taeyong said. "I swear, if I have to look at pictures for the rest of my life of him at his own goddamn wedding with pants that barely reach his ankles, I’m photoshopping him away."

"You’re here," Doyoung said, leaning back and crossing his legs. "Go remind him yourself. Have you talked to them?"

Taeyong ruffled his own hair and slumped back in his seat, frowning down at the table. He looked like a kid again instead of a high profile government employee. "Haven’t had the time, between this and work."

Doyoung kicked him under the table. "Then what are you doing loitering here? Go talk to your best friend, idiot!"

"I’m not saying I don’t have time to be here with you, Doyoung," Taeyong replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I set aside time for this. And Johnny’s been pretty busy too, with some—"

"And you think I’m not?" Doyoung huffed. Taeyong laughed.

"Looks like we’re both loitering with each other, then," he said. 

Doyoung rolled his eyes. "What about your parents, and your sister? Don’t tell me—"

" _Yes_ , I grabbed lunch with my sister and have called my parents a few times already," Taeyong said. "You’ve always cared too much, Doyoung."

"Five years ago, you wouldn’t have said that about me," Doyoung muttered despite himself. He’d been expecting the same kind of needy, insecure Taeyong when he’d made it a point not to bring up the past. But now, Taeyong was so different yet still so fundamentally Taeyong. It was as if Taeyong wanted to mend things instead of just running away, and Doyoung was the stupid, stubborn one for not letting the grudge dissipate in the face of such a sincere, life-changing form of apology. The purpose keeping it all compartmentalized as a finished and locked up part of Doyoung's life was so that he could prevent himself from lashing out and facing the wrath of Taeyong’s reaction, which would ultimately just dig Doyoung into an even bigger ditch of self-loathing. Taeyong deserved a good slap in the face five years ago, but Doyoung simply walked away as a means of protecting _himself_. 

But now Taeyong was here, gingerly measuring Doyoung’s reactions, letting Doyoung guide the conversations and establish the boundaries he needed, and using his knowledge of psychology to respond rather than to control. There was definitely a feeling for Doyoung of being left behind, because he hadn’t even made an effort to change himself in the years he’d been brooding on things by drowning himself in his studies. But there was also a spark of something warm, reminiscent of the first time Taeyong had kissed him after Yuta blurted out that they were dating at that party in sophomore year. It was the feeling of being loved, of sticking around long enough to see someone change so profoundly, and of hoping, whether you acknowledged that hope or not, that they did it for your sake. 

"I know," Taeyong said after a long while. Doyoung looked up at him with his arms still crossed over his chest like a makeshift shield. "And I’m sorry. A lot. Sorry about what happened."

"That— _I’m_ sorry," Doyoung said, vaguely annoyed, but not with Taeyong in particular. "That’s not the point. 

"What is it, then?" Taeyong said, leaning over the table and looking up at Doyoung. "I want things between us to change."

"My answer is different depending on what your intentions are," Doyoung replied, unmoving. "I’m not a mind reader like you. I don’t know what you want from me, coming all the way out here after all this time and telling me you want 'change'. Well, here it is. Things have already changed. We’re talking to each other now, aren’t we? Which is more than what could be said—"

"I’m sorry," Taeyong said, hard, and Doyoung flinched this time, which Taeyong noticed. He deflated a little, looking down at his hands. "For not making my intentions clear. I had to see you, and spend some time with you to figure it out."

Doyoung sniffed to mask a gulp. His heart, for some reason, felt like leaping into his throat and it took all he had to keep it down.

Taeyong’s moves on him weren’t anything he hadn’t experienced before. He knew what Taeyong looked like when he was flirting with someone. But here was a Taeyong who was fixated on his goal and knew what he wanted and would put his best effort into achieving that. Here was a Taeyong who wouldn’t get distracted by something new and shiny on the way. And it wasn’t that Doyoung thought Taeyong wouldn’t let him go if he ended up not reciprocating Taeyong’s feelings. It was actually that the confidence Taeyong somehow found in America gave him what he needed to _let_ Doyoung go, and to accept that he’d done all he could.

"I still love you, Doyoung," Taeyong said slowly, clearly. "I know what it sounds like. Given the circumstances of everything that happened." He picked up his coffee cup and shook it, then flinched at the empty sound but went on anyway. "If you ever want me to stop, just say so. I’ll stop, really. I promise."

Taeyong was trying. Which was more than what could be said about five years ago, when Taeyong had run away without even attempting to understand that things could’ve been different. Doyoung had needed time, which was something Taeyong didn’t have. Things could’ve been different if Taeyong had just waited for him, but that wasn’t who Taeyong was back then. That wasn’t something Taeyong had the capacity to handle back then. "I don’t know," Doyoung said finally. "I don’t need you to _stop_ , but I don’t know."

Taeyong nodded slowly, looking at Doyoung hard for a while, but with hope. "That’s… that’s not a 'no'."

"No, it’s not," Doyoung replied. "I can’t say for sure that I don’t still have feelings for you, you know."

"That’s—" Taeyong started, then paused. "That’s— well, it is what it is."

"We were together for a while," said Doyoung.

"I’m… glad," Taeyong said. "That you still have feelings. That’s hope. I like hope."

Doyoung laughed and made the mistake of looking at Taeyong, whose eyes were almost glittering at the sight of Doyoung’s smile, tracing it into memory. Doyoung felt one single pound of his heart against his ribcage, harder than ever before. "You’re so optimistic now," Doyoung said vaguely, and Taeyong grinned and shrugged. "You’ve changed. A lot."

"I know," said Taeyong. And as much as Doyoung thought he’d fallen in love with the unstable roller coaster Taeyong was in college, back when they had time and energy and the ambition to try to fix each other while digging themselves into an even bigger mess, Taeyong was still charming now in his own way. He offered everything he had of himself. He was committed, and he had heart. He was softer around the edges, and he let himself get excited at small things and be touched to the core. What Doyoung felt for Taeyong back in college was admiration, or something darker and more extreme. Inspiration, maybe, like Taeyong was some kind of mess, and it was up to Doyoung to clean him up and right him and fix him. But instead he dragged Doyoung down with him, though it was no less Doyoung’s fault that Taeyong’s. Doyoung, in his eagerness to _make_ Taeyong into something he’d never be, had unwittingly let Taeyong in to poke at all the things Doyoung had buried deep within himself that he wasn’t ready for anyone to know yet, especially not someone like Lee Taeyong. 

And now Taeyong was knocking again. But at least this time he was knocking, and at least this time Doyoung wasn’t leaving the door wide open. Things were different now, though it had taken so much heartbreak to get here. 

"Sometimes I wonder if I’m too different," Taeyong added after Doyoung’s silence. "Now, I mean. Compared to how I was before."

"It’s not like just because you changed, all the shit you pulled before never happened," Doyoung replied coolly, and Taeyong flinched a little. Doyoung looked down and sighed a little, and gentler, he said, "But this has always been a part of you, too. Whatever you like better about yourself now. It has always been part of you."

Taeyong was so expressive now. He seemed to perk up at the smallest of compliments, which was something Doyoung never noticed before, maybe because it was so hard to look at Taeyong for a long period of time because he was so breathtakingly beautiful. But now that Doyoung looked at him, _really_ looked, he noticed how happy the compliments made Taeyong. 

Taeyong was madly in love. He was no less in love with Doyoung than five years ago, when he was smothering Doyoung with gifts, sex, and attention, picking Doyoung apart at the seams just to see how he’d react, like each confession of love was just a way to toy with him. Holding back was always difficult for Taeyong, who was an intense person by nature. When Doyoung had said he needed space, for Taeyong it probably felt like the end of the world. Back then, he hadn’t known a middle ground. It was either to be with Doyoung or to never see him again.

Now Taeyong seemed like he was ready to juggle that. He didn’t need Doyoung’s help, either. In a way, it was sad, like watching a child grow up. But something new always sprouted from that, and Taeyong, little by little, was trying to reveal to Doyoung what that would turn out to be.

—

Taeil called in the middle of the week.

Doyoung had planned with Taeyong to go suit shopping on Sunday, willingly, together. Johnny and Taeil wanted to wear off-white suits, while the wedding party were to come in navy blue. Johnny’s parents weren’t _super_ religious, but Johnny’s mom wanted some semblance of a traditional wedding, so the ceremony itself was to appease her. Churches in Korea willing to marry a gay couple were booked out for the next three years, but fortunately, Johnny’s mom adored Taeil’s sister and was thrilled that she wanted to officiate.

The point was, Johnny’s mom wanted the groomsmen to walk each other down the aisle from both sides, as awkward as it was, and Doyoung and Taeyong’s job was to make it as not-awkward as possible. Which mainly concerned issues between the two of them, so Taeyong had come up with the great idea of shopping for suits together, and Doyoung had stupidly agreed. 

Taeil, for the fact that he was getting married in a little over half a year, was surprisingly calm. Doyoung figured it was because Taeil rarely had much idea what was going on, but he wasn’t going to talk about this anyway right now just in case Taeil was one of those people who dealt with things by just pretending they weren’t happening and dealing with everything at the last moment. 

So Doyoung talked about work. Because everything Taeyong-related was tied to the wedding, which was Doyoung’s excuse for avoiding bringing up anything that had to do with him. Doyoung talked about work, which was the only other thing he knew. "So I’ve been writing this proposal for _six weeks_ ," Doyoung whined, "and he calls to tell me _now_ that the printer—"

"How’s Taeyong?" Taeil blurted out.

"… What?"

Taeil sighed in a small voice. "How’s Taeyong?"

Doyoung scoffed, a little breath coming out in disbelief. "Why are you asking _me_ about him, go ask him y—"

"Johnny says he doesn’t want to 'pressure' Taeyong, after forcing you guys into all this," Taeil replied quietly. He went silent for a bit, and then, out of the blue, he snorted. "I mean personally, I figured you could take it. So I thought I’d ask anyway."

Doyoung sighed and rubbed his temples. Johnny and Taeil were always full of surprises. "You’re right, I can," Doyoung said begrudgingly. After a pause, he added, "Then where’s Johnny?"

"He’s right behind me," Taeil replied. "You’re on speaker. Say hi, Johnny."

Johnny grunted in mild annoyance, and Doyoung laughed. "Hello, Johnny," Doyoung said, waving a little until he remembered Johnny couldn’t see him anyway, then leaning back against the counter dejectedly. Even the apartment complex was unnaturally quiet this evening, and in the wake of Johnny and Taeil being incredibly lovey-dovey and communicative, Doyoung felt lonelier than ever. "Taeyong— Taeyong is… different now," he started quietly, and Taeil hummed. "The pressure, you know. He could take it now."

"Is that so," Taeil murmured. His voice was comforting in the quiet.

"We’ve been talking," Doyoung continued. "A lot."

"Oh?" said Taeil. "You used to not talk that much. At least not without fighting."

"I told you he’s different," Doyoung replied. "He’s… easier now."

Johnny snorted in the background, and Taeil shushed him. "Easier?" Taeil said quietly, and Doyoung rolled his eyes.

"Not like that," he said. "Easier to be around. Less intense."

"But didn’t you always like that about him?"

And Taeil was right in some ways. When Doyoung had just gotten to know him, Lee Taeyong was unlike anyone he had ever met; he was _still_ unlike anyone Doyoung had ever met, but back then, Doyoung was starstruck. So Doyoung had taken an interest in Taeyong just like how Taeyong had taken an interest in him. It was like a need to pick each other apart and see what made him tick. It was nothing like real love, but it was exciting, being together, and when Yuta called it "dating," they started falling into their roles and acting the part. Thinking back on it now, sometimes it seemed like Taeyong wasn’t acting anymore but really craving a level of intimacy, of tenderness, that scared Doyoung. It was not so much the intimacy itself that was frightening, but rather the possibility of admitting that Doyoung had read Taeyong all wrong. That there was another layer of Taeyong underneath the Taeyong that Doyoung had grown so accustomed to— the chilly, mysterious Taeyong that Doyoung had given all of _himself_ to, that was starting to peek through the cracks of Taeyong’s edgy demeanor, and Doyoung was trying frantically, fruitlessly, to piece that cracked facade of Taeyong back together. 

So back then, Doyoung was young and curious and stupid. Back then, Doyoung was part of the problem. Maybe he’d been just as much of the problem as Taeyong was. He never denied it; it was more that he was so mad at Taeyong for five long years that he hadn’t even gotten to the point of considering it to be a possibility, and now that it was here, laid out on the table for him to inspect, it made more sense than he ever could’ve imagined. And seeing Taeyong here, so kind, so open, and so willing, a Taeyong that Doyoung didn’t have to peel apart, meant that some part of Taeyong, however tiny or insignificant at first, realized that he _wanted_ to trust Doyoung. That Doyoung had trusted whatever piece of himself he’d put out, and the problem wasn’t with commitment, or growing up, or a difference in personality, but rather that all Doyoung had wanted was to be trusted back.

They met at a street corner that Taeyong insisted would be easier to find than the small suit shop he’d always gone to that tailored suits for men who ran skinny but tall. And he was right; the place was tucked away in a dark alley and up a flight of stairs that looked like the fire escape. The inside was small but warm and cozy, dark but soft in a way, decorated with deep colors like pool table green against mahogany that made you feel like home in a place you’d never been before.

The suit was still too short for Doyoung’s legs. The tailor had taken his measurements and picked out sample sized pieces from three different suits, and while the legs ran straight and tighter than Doyoung liked and the suit coat shoulders tucked around him almost perfectly, the pants ended just above his ankles. "Please don’t laugh at me," Doyoung mumbled from the changing room. He’d made the mistake of wearing white socks today, too. 

Taeyong, from through the curtain and into the other stall, laughed lightly but without meanness. Taeyong no doubt looked dashing. He was built exactly like the kind of person this shop would have model for them. Doyoung was always sort of the awkwardly long string bean standing next to him who never grew into the bones that his height and shoulder width promised.

Doyoung took a breath and stepped into the hallway of the changing room, where angled mirrors met him from all sides. "Okay," he said, twisting a little stiffly, like he wanted to catch a glimpse of the view but was scared of what it might look like. 

When Taeyong pushed the curtain aside, Doyoung sucked in an audible breath. Taeyong looked unreal. Like suits were made for him. Like no one was allowed to wear a suit anymore except him. His shoulders squared with confidence, but the navy exuded kindness. The crisp, ironed edges were handsomely intimidating, while his posture slouched in a young, relaxed kind of way. When Doyoung finally stopped ogling at Taeyong’s body and reached his face, Taeyong was staring right back at him with a heavy brow, hands in his pockets but shoulders tensed up a little, like he was itching to move and had to physically restrain himself. "… Wow," was the first thing Taeyong said.

"I know," Doyoung replied, clenching and unclenching his hands. "The pants are really short. Like way too short. Like, I expected them to—"

"No, like, _wow_ ," Taeyong breathed, his voice low, and Doyoung blinked, squinting a little. 

"I… what?" Doyoung said finally, his hands stiff at his sides. "I don’t… get—"

"You look incredible," Taeyong said finally. The sparkle of mirth was back in the bottoms of his eyes, but the top half was completely shadowed over. Doyoung didn’t know what to make of it. Taeyong had gone from intense to soft to completely unreadable all in one lifetime, and it was frightening but thrilling in a way, because somewhere deep down, Doyoung still trusted Taeyong firmly and with his whole being. And even with everything that happened between them, the good, the bad, the ugly, Taeyong had never given Doyoung reason not to keep trusting him. 

It was thrilling because there was more of Taeyong to unpack, and it was scary because the layers might never end. But now, the thing that was different from before, was that— that was _okay_. It was okay to trust Taeyong without knowing every inch of his being. It was okay because Taeyong was doing at least that much for him too now, like he wanted Doyoung to love him again so much that he’d go first, show Doyoung how to be away from someone and take your space, so much space that the two of you become completely different people, and then come back and still have that deep-seated, firm belief that the other would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. 

And they had to take time and space to work on themselves. And that was what hurt, not the actions or the words or anything Taeyong said or did— because he didn’t, even with how Doyoung had told him five long years ago, gingerly, sadly, that he wouldn’t be able to continue this, Taeyong still never did or said anything actively mean to Doyoung. The only thing, the one thing he’d done that had hurt Doyoung the most, like carving a deep, gaping hole into him and kicking him down into the dirt, was that he had left.

"Why did you leave?" Doyoung blurted out, knowing very well why Taeyong had left.

Taeyong gave him a pointed look that said he knew Doyoung knew, but Taeyong's looks were always super complex. There was something empathetic in this one, like despite how stupid the question was, Taeyong understood why Doyoung asked. Maybe it was just wanting out of spite to hear Taeyong say it, or maybe Doyoung needed that smack in the face, the sting he'd been ignoring for years that came with the knowledge that you hurt someone you really cherished and you were too goddamn stubborn to make things right. "I think you know why," Taeyong finally answered, leaning back against the wall that separated the changing rooms, while Doyoung stood awkwardly between three mirrors that shined on him like spotlights. "I couldn't look at you. I wasn't mad, but I felt so goddamn _lonely_."

"You couldn't look at me," Doyoung said flatly.

"It made me sad," Taeyong replied in a hushed voice. "To see you so close, but… I couldn’t touch you. Or have you. Or even talk to you without thinking about how you weren’t mine anymore."

"We could've just been friends," Doyoung pointed out.

Taeyong sighed. "No, okay? I— I didn’t. I didn’t want to be just friends. I wanted to date you. I thought we established that."

"So you just wanted in my pants," said Doyoung, and Taeyong gritted his teeth in a pout that was disarmingly cute for how frustrated he looked.

"No, I— there's not just. Friends or pants. It doesn’t work like that," Taeyong said. A little bit of the desperation he had back in university, that intensity that made it so hard for Doyoung to say no to him, seeped into his voice. And Doyoung missed that; it was toxic to both of them at the time, but god, he missed it so much. Taeyong collected himself a moment later and ran a hand through his hair, his dense eyebrows meeting for a moment in thought. "Sure, you're hot, but I wanted— I wanted what you had with your friends, _and_ the pants. And everything in between. I wanted to romance you, take you out on dates, marry you, even."

"Two weeks and you already thought about marrying me," Doyoung said with a quirk of the side of his mouth and Taeyong rolled his eyes but smiled a little pathetically. 

"You're lying if that's not one of the first things you think of when you realize you like someone," Taeyong said with a gentle laugh. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked off into the main area of the shop, where a dim wash of light from outside shone on his face. "Especially in college."

Doyoung’s hands unclenched and he wiggled his fingers a little. He said nothing, which Taeyong must’ve remembered was his way of reluctantly agreeing. 

Taeyong smiled that crooked smile Doyoung fell for so many years ago except he looked distinctly older now, even if Doyoung didn’t want to believe it. Taeyong once seemed like someone so ethereal that he couldn’t possibly be subjected to measly earthy things like cellular death and the passage of time. But he wore it well. Taeyong accepted that things changed, and he held his head high and made the best of the circumstances. He looked scruffier, more mature, but more approachable. The age on him reflected more of his actual personality, from what Doyoung remembered. When Taeyong was in a good mood, he listened. Boy, could he listen. You couldn’t date Doyoung if you didn’t want to do a hell of a lot of listening. Taeyong at that time had been simultaneously the best and worst listener Doyoung had ever known. And that was for the best, because sometimes Doyoung needed to be stopped. It was just up to Taeyong’s judgment to know when to use that. And Doyoung had been holding Taeyong’s lack of experience against him all this time. 

"But yes, I thought about marrying you two weeks in," Taeyong said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He looked scruffier, but it made him like a kid in some ways, in his mannerisms and the way he carried himself. He looked more honest. "And spend the rest of my life with you."

"I swear to god, if you propose to me right now, I’m kicking you out of this shop and calling the police," Doyoung said, a characteristic flush rising into his cheeks. 

Taeyong laughed. "Even I know not to ruin my best friend’s wedding with my own wedding announcement. That’s just common courtesy."

Doyoung had wanted Taeyong to stop prying, but to read his mind at the same time. He’d wholeheartedly clung to Taeyong’s strengths while not tolerating his faults. And Doyoung hadn’t been in the best frame of mind either at that time to find a way to tolerate it. Doyoung’s intolerance and Taeyong’s volatility were the perfect storm, and now here they were, five years later, Taeyong having changed in many ways, and Doyoung in just a few, meeting each other not really in the middle but both being somehow okay with that. If this was what Taeyong wanted to do for Doyoung, then Doyoung would accept it as readily as he’d come to accept himself. That was really the only change on his part: that he’d finally started trying to accept his own horrifying thoughts, his own needs, the faulty judgment and bad decisions he made, all that into the package that was Doyoung. And Taeyong had come to realize that it was a lot more fulfilling coming to meet someone where they were at rather than trying to dig any deeper. Doyoung had been the one to push Taeyong back a safe and comfortable distance for them both, and that might be why they weren’t meeting square in the middle, but they’d both given it what they wanted, and that was all they could ask for. 

—

"Okay, so let’s meet in the front at 7, and unlike this place, it’s well-lit and next to a big hotel," Doyoung said, flipping through a little notebook he carried around with various business cards and receipts stuck in it until he found the place. "You can’t miss it."

Taeyong nodded, shuffling his feet awkwardly and rubbing the back of his head.

They had almost kissed in there. Taeyong had actually reached forward to touch Doyoung’s shoulder, all friendly and platonic at first, and then his grip tightened for a moment before his hand slid down Doyoung’s arm and to his hand, which he held and rubbed circles into Doyoung’s palm. And Doyoung had held his breath the entire time, his heart pounding so hard he was sure Taeyong could see it through the layers of dress shirt and cotton and linen and silk. He didn’t push Taeyong away, because he didn’t mind the feeling. He didn’t even stop him when Taeyong leaned closer, tilting his head a little, and Doyoung let his eyes flutter shut and his mouth drop just the slightest bit open. He was on a soft, gentle intake of breath right before the big storm when the store associate cleared his throat rather gruffly and called, "Everything okay in there?"

Taeyong jerked away instantly and Doyoung’s shoulders shot up to his ears. "Y-yeah," Doyoung stammered out; he probably should’ve let Taeyong say that instead, but the only way Doyoung knew how to remedy situations was by talking over them. His voice was still soft and tonal and it cracked when he called out to the associate, who probably had things like this happen pretty often. 

"Sorry. About that… back there," Taeyong said. It was cold in the alleyway just outside the shop but secluded, almost like it gave them an excuse to stand closer to each other. 

"Don’t apologize," Doyoung blurted out, probably snappier than he wanted to sound. When he looked up, though, Taeyong was looking at him hopefully. "I mean… you don’t have to," Doyoung went on to say, suddenly noticing how close Taeyong was. He was wearing a thermal under two unbuttoned jackets, and Doyoung could feel the heat radiating off his chest. "I… I wanted it. Too. I wanted it, too." 

"Then can I kiss you?" Taeyong asked suddenly. It was like he wanted to get it out before he chickened out or Doyoung changed his mind. 

It happened faster than Doyoung could think, and he sucked in a breath again, knowing what he wanted but not sure whether his mind was ready for it all or if this was the right place. Nothing would ever be "right" or perfect between the two of them, though; they were and had always been each others’ impulses in a world they both tried so hard— too hard— to navigate by way of pure control. You could always wait, but you couldn’t always act. Doyoung would be spending this entire next week waiting to see Taeyong again anyway, so he could at least ask for something to remember.

Taeyong took Doyoung’s hesitance as his usual reluctance and smiled weakly. "I mean, it’s okay— I understand if you don’t want to do— and here, in public, it’s—"

Doyoung was not listening but just watching Taeyong’s feet. When Taeyong moved to step back the way he always did when he closed up, Doyoung reached out for his face and pulled him back in and kissed him square on the lips. 

Taeyong jumped a little at first. He wasn’t one of those people who froze up, but he more jumped from place to place. But then his hands immediately came down to rest on Doyoung’s waist, and Doyoung touched the side of Taeyong’s face with his other hand so that he was holding Taeyong, touching his skin, _finally_ , and feeling all the things that were so familiar but also so new about Taeyong. The little bit of prickliness along his chin touched the heels of Doyoung’s hands. Scarring and texture along his jaw pressed against the pads of Doyoung’s finger. The dry skin around his temples and hairline skated smoothly under Doyoung’s thumbs. Doyoung breathed in through his nose and moved to nibble on Taeyong’s upper lip while Taeyong fit his lips around Doyoung’s lower one and kissed him fully and sensually, grabbing at him and breathing him in again and again. 

It was comfortable, being with Taeyong. Just focusing on kissing him and not letting the moment sweep them into something scary and uncontrolled. This was the present, and Doyoung needed to feel Taeyong to remember that. Taeyong’s hands kept him grounded, and the skin on his face was so uniquely him that Doyoung could touch it forever and ever and always find something to focus on, to bring him back to the fact that Taeyong was kissing him here, and now. 

They pulled away naturally, Taeyong’s hands not leaving Doyoung’s hips. Doyoung let his hands fall to Taeyong’s shoulders heavily, and Taeyong quirked the side of his mouth up as if he didn’t know what expression to make. "That was… nice," Doyoung said, just to put something in the air.

"Were you surprised?" Taeyong said, and Doyoung shook his head.

"I’ve been wanting to do that," he replied. 

Taeyong laughed and squeezed Doyoung’s hips. There wasn’t much to squeeze, but he squeezed anyway, feeling Doyoung, solid, between his hands. "So are we dating now?" he said, and Doyoung shrugged.

"I don’t know," said Doyoung.

"Okay," Taeyong replied, surprisingly. "We have time. I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone else I’m interested in."

"Likewise," Doyoung said, which seemed to make Taeyong disproportionately happy, but it was cute. 

"Should we leave?" said Taeyong, looking up at the graying sky between the buildings. It was bright for late November but not sunny at all, and Doyoung suddenly felt how chilly it actually was.

"We should leave," he said. 

"Then I’ll see you next Friday?" Taeyong said, pulling away gently. Everything was slow, easy, and it made Doyoung feel weightless but powerful, like a cloud.

"Next Friday," Doyoung repeated.

—

It felt nice not having to be around Taeyong all the time but still wanting to think about him. It wasn’t really one of those cases where Doyoung's heart grew fonder out of absence, but more that it gave him the security of knowing he had time and space to really think about things, between classes, papers, reports, and grants. But whenever he sat down, _really_ sat down, like at the rarely-used couch in his apartment with a cup of tea and just a pair of boxers on and the heat turned way up, he found that there was really nothing to think about. His mind went completely blank. It was peaceful, like how fresh snow made you forget everything. 

It was nice not contacting Taeyong between when they met but knowing that they knew each other so deeply that they had no reason to be afraid. They were at this weird limbo between knowing everything they knew about each other and having something new to discover every time. For example, Taeyong showing up with a bouquet of flowers in front of the restaurant was not something Doyoung could’ve predicted happening in a hundred years, but there he was, standing there in the dark all giddy like he was proud of it.

"Roses," Doyoung said as he approached carefully, and Taeyong jumped a little before turning toward Doyoung with a big, lopsided grin. 

"They’re for you," Taeyong said, pushing them insistently toward Doyoung, who didn’t know what to do with his hands.

"Taeyong, that’s expensive," was the first thing Doyoung thought to say. "And this isn’t even an occasion for us, we’re just—"

Taeyong sighed without looking the least bit put off. "I have—"

"Money, I know," Doyoung finished, and Taeyong pressed them into Doyoung’s chest again. Doyoung finally gave and wrapped his hands around them stiffly, crinkling the cellophane. It felt foreign against his cold hands; he’d never been a big receiver of gifts, maybe because his cold reaction always discouraged people from giving to him again, but Taeyong could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to. Something felt nice, whether it was the roses themselves or how Taeyong would stop at nothing to get Doyoung to accept whatever Taeyong thought he deserved. 

The servers in the restaurant were better dressed than Doyoung, who’d gone through his entire closet trying on and switching outfits in preparation. It was kinda fun, being this excited in a nervous and giddy way for something again, and if he didn’t think about it too hard he could steer himself away from the inevitable question of what the future might hold, Taeyong only being here on contract and everything. It was the best and worst time to get involved; ironically, it would be better to experience the heartbreak earlier if they didn’t work out, but some satanic, self-defeating part of Doyoung held on to the experience of being with Taeyong and was too stubborn to even let go for a hot minute to consider that this wouldn’t, or _couldn’t_ last forever. 

He’d had way too much of that anyway. Fighting yourself was tiring. And getting older, at least for Doyoung, had presented the effects of being slightly tipsy all the time and not giving a rat’s ass about the things that would’ve shattered his world back in high school or even college days. It made him both hard and soft: hard in that he’d hold onto optimism with a death grip now, and soft in that he didn’t really give a shit whether it was unrealistic or not. 

So dressing for tonight had become a whole ordeal. It was a debate between wearing something that flattered him versus wearing something appropriate for the event and carefully deciding whether or not to wear something old that Taeyong might recognize, but if he didn’t comment on it, would it be worth the unnecessary emotional baggage, and what if it made him depressed again? Eventually, Doyoung finally settled on some jeans and a plain tee with a grey cardigan thrown over to dress it up a little, but now, seeing the vibe in the restaurant, he shouldn’t have even bothered.

He kind of wanted the world to eat him alive. From the flowers, to the clothing, to this, and now Taeyong was holding his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. And that Doyoung wasn’t completely repulsed by something so public and so declarative was worse than the actual gesture itself. What did he really even want from Taeyong? Was it that he wanted him, or that he needed him? And how much wishy-washy bullshit could Taeyong tolerate from Doyoung before he eventually gave up and stopped trying?

What did Doyoung have now that he didn’t have years ago? What made Taeyong put so much effort in for him now when five years ago, he’d just given up and run away?

"They must really trust you to have you two plan the whole thing," the hostess was saying, and Doyoung twisted his hands nervously, crinkling the cellophane, as Taeyong walked in front of him and nodded. 

"Well, let’s just say they know what’s best for them," Taeyong said smoothly, and the hostess laughed, and for some reason it made Doyoung flush. 

The restaurant had a back room reserved for private parties that felt eerily empty with just the two of them seated in there. Back windows overlooked the river, and you could see lights like holes in paper drifting over from the other bank. A trail of lights lining a suspension bridge connected them, and cars seemingly piled atop one another sat still in traffic, waiting to finally get home for the weekend. Dim, rosy lighting flooded their private room, and the hostess waited with them, reassuring them that the chef would be with them shortly.

"Isn’t it tiring, though, being this involved on top of everything you two must have going on in your own lives?" she asked, sitting down at the edge of the bench that wrapped around the back of the table, where Doyoung and Taeyong had scooted to earlier. 

Taeyong ruffled his own hair sheepishly. "I mean, yeah, but we want them to be happy," he replied. Doyoung leaned back and folded his hands in his lap, looking down at his nails. "It’s not too much trouble on our ends, really."

"We’d be just as stressed if we left them on their own," Doyoung blurted out suddenly, and Taeyong’s twinkling laugh in response just made his heart race more.

"That is absolutely true, these guys are so completely lost in their own little world that sometimes I wonder how they function," Taeyong added. 

"Yet they’re the ones getting married," Doyoung said, smirking a little sarcastically and elbowing Taeyong, and Taeyong raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"You’re not wrong." 

The hostess folded her hands around a tray she was holding and tilted her head inquisitively. Motioning between them, she said, gently, "Are you two…?"

The question was like an unexpected crack of thunder when the sky was already cloudy and heavy with static. Doyoung _knew_ it was coming, but that didn’t make the impact any softer. Maybe anticipating it and then subsequently shoving it to the back of his mind out of pure avoidance actually amplified it. He felt keyed up, like he was turning to Taeyong in slow motion, who only moved to look back at him with a gaze that was surprisingly calm but hesitant. The fact that Taeyong was putting thought into it for his sake just ended up sending another buzz through his brain, as if it weren’t already short-circuiting. How was Taeyong so calm about this, and why was it so important to him? 

"Uh," Taeyong started after an awkward while, folding his hands in his lap and squeezing his knees together. Doyoung could feel his muscles tense; their thighs were touching, and Doyoung wanted nothing more than to reach over and put a hand on Taeyong’s leg, to let him know that whatever he said would be fine, that they could talk about this later. That they _would_ talk about this later, because Doyoung needed to sort out his feelings, and blurting it all out to Taeyong seemed like the only viable solution at the moment. Taeyong had talked about it way more than Doyoung— he’d revealed so much more than Doyoung had— yet Doyoung still felt lost in a sea between then and now, like what Taeyong had told him were just little floating islands scattered about the water, and Doyoung was floating in an ocean as big as the Pacific and expected to connect the dots or know where to go. Taeyong wanted him back, but when? How? _Why_?

"Yes," Doyoung blurted out. Taeyong jerked his head to look at him, and it took all of Doyoung’s willpower not to glare back in an indignant sort of look-what-you-made-me-do. Because it was absolutely all on Doyoung, but it wasn’t like Taeyong didn’t have him frazzled from literally everything he’d been doing up until now. Doyoung needed some semblance of understanding of the situation, and to do that, he’d need control. He needed to think a step ahead. "Yes. We’re together."

The hostess gave them an awkward but well-meaning smile and laughed lightly. "Oh, con… gratulations?"

Taeyong snorted and covered it up with a few coughs, and the hostess stepped out quickly to get him some water. Once Taeyong looked up and decided they were alone enough, he furrowed his eyebrows and leaned in close, grumbling, "What? 'We’re together'?!"

"Isn’t that what you wanted?" Doyoung replied, measured and quiet, keeping his eyes on the doorway to avoid looking at Taeyong.

Taeyong went stiff and silent for a moment, and Doyoung thought he was going to let it go. Then he clenched his hands in his lap suddenly, crinkling his slacks. "Do you think this is a game?" Taeyong said, more serious than he’d been all night. 

"It’s not like you’re exactly decisive about it either," Doyoung retorted.

"I’m just trying not to force you into anything!" hissed Taeyong. "Because you— I was trying to give you space! Just like before, when—"

"Yeah, well, if your idea of space means halfway across the world," Doyoung growled lowly. 

Space. As if physical space had been what Doyoung was actually asking for when he’d decided to end the relationship five years ago. It wasn’t like Taeyong was glued to him, following his every step. That would’ve been way easier, actually. No, Taeyong had been in his _head_. His _words_ followed Doyoung everywhere; his guesses, his excuses, his judgments. Doyoung had been vulnerable at the time to something like that: he was new, young, in college, and had fallen in with a group of incredibly good looking boys. His heart ached for how naive he’d been; if only someone had told him that Taeyong couldn’t be his everything, and he shouldn’t have expected that from him. But Doyoung would’ve pushed that away anyway and rejected the advice. It was one of those things he’d have to learn from experience, which would end up hurting both of them, with their friends picking up the collateral damage. 

Doyoung remembered saying something to the effect of, "I don’t want this."

Weirdly, he remembered what Taeyong had been wearing, what he’d looked like, smelled like, sounded like, more vividly than the actual words exchanged between the two of them. Taeyong was in the outfit he always wore when he was alone in the house but for whatever reason felt threatened anyway: a huge, thick gray hoodie, with the hood pulled over his face, blue sweats, bare feet, all the little veins and tendons on his feet and toes sticking out like chicken bones. His fringe was falling over his face in an unflattering part that made his forehead look particularly square. He looked like he just walked out of a 90s sitcom. His undereyes were abnormally dark and grey, like he’d been wearing mascara and it rubbed off in his sleep. "What do you mean by ’this’?" he’d said carefully.

Doyoung sighed. They had been sitting at the dinette, just outside the kitchen of Taeyong’s apartment, which was meticulously clean. "I— I don’t really know either," said Doyoung quietly. "Us— but I… I _do_ want us to work, but I don’t want the way we’re doing it now, and I don’t want to have to say what I came here to say, that’s really what I—"

"Then don’t say it," Taeyong said. He looked empty. His eyes were black, his irises huge. They always made Taeyong look pretty, and sometimes kiddish, but when the light hit him in a way where they were completely shadowed, it made it seem like he wasn’t really looking at anything at all. "There’s a simple answer to that. Don’t say it."

"You don’t get it," Doyoung said flatly.

Taeyong kicked the air with his bare foot jerking like a reflex. "No, I don’t."

Doyoung sighed again. It was excessive, but it bought him time. He’d known this would be hard. He should’ve prepared something to say, but Taeyong would’ve hated that more than anything. So instead he came here without a script or without even thinking about what he was doing, led by something in his heart that wouldn’t stop making him feel miserable for no fucking reason. "You ever feel like… you know, like when you’re in a dream, and you can’t breathe?" Doyoung said. He looked out between the blinds through the clear sliding door. The day was too sunny for this. It had been late autumn then too, almost winter. It should’ve been raining, or snowing, or anything but this crisp sunlight through bare trees. 

"You feel suffocated?" Taeyong said, looking at Doyoung. "By me?"

Taeyong always jumped three steps ahead in the conversation. That was how he took the upper hand when he felt backed into a corner. He knew what you were thinking deep down in your heart and ripped it out of you, ugly and unfiltered, so it hurt you both. "That’s not what I’m trying to say," Doyoung said tiredly, and Taeyong clicked his tongue. 

"Then _tell me_ , clearly, what you want from this conversation—"

"Space," Doyoung blurted out. Taeyong never made conflicts easy. He made it like you were both walking toward each other, straight into a blade wrenched right into your gut so it went through you. But for some reason, you kept walking. "I need space. And time. I need to think about things."

"I love you," Taeyong said out of the blue. He looked pained. And it hurt Doyoung that he couldn’t walk over there and save him like he’d tried to do thousands of times before. It was like climbing into a vat of boiling water to fetch him down at the bottom. You’d die before you even got close, and now Doyoung was clinging to the edge, just barely dragging himself out, burned and bruised, saving what was left of himself and leaving Taeyong there to die.

"I love you too," Doyoung replied quietly.

"Then I don’t get what the problem is!" Taeyong said sharply. Taeyong didn’t yell, not in anger at least, but it felt like he was yelling. 

It was a selfish decision. _Surviving_ on this earth was full of selfish decisions. Maybe Doyoung was just made of the right ingredients or something, a mixture that cooked up a little self-preservation. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault that Taeyong was stuck down there; he wasn’t the one who pushed him in. It wasn’t his responsibility to get him out. Doyoung should never have been so arrogant to think that he _could_ save Taeyong. Three years of this, and it had eventually just etched itself into his personal code, and now he couldn’t undo it without ripping off some skin, too, and enduring a whole lot of pain. 

"I’m not saying we can’t ever work," Doyoung said desperately. "I’m just saying I need time and space. Away. From this."

"What do you mean by _this_?" Taeyong repeated. He was starting to get desperate too; going back on old habits, pestering Doyoung for answers he knew Doyoung didn’t have. Doyoung owed those answers to him, but finding them would cost both of their sanities and lives. "Us? The relationship? Me?"

"I don’t _know_!" Doyoung snapped. "I don’t know, okay? Maybe all of it! Maybe none of it."

"That’s bullshit!" Taeyong shouted back.

"I know, and I’m doing it anyway," said Doyoung, and Taeyong stiffened. After a moment of staring at Doyoung long and hard, he sunk back into his chair, completely deflated. He was hurt. Doyoung had hurt him. He’d already started out hurt, and Doyoung had made the mistake of getting involved at the wrong time with the wrong intentions and just ended up hurting him more. At the time, he’d known with unusual clarity and had almost come to accept that he’d hurt Taeyong, and there was no getting around it. They both would’ve been better off just leaving it there and taking responsibility for everything they’d done to each other. 

But it was painful, god it hurt so much to see Taeyong like this. Doyoung had been weak. He couldn’t accept ending things like that, and deep down, he couldn’t accept that he had some responsibility in it too. He couldn’t accept being the bad guy— they were both bad guys, but Doyoung couldn’t accept it, not when he’d been feeling this hurt for this long. "Let’s— let’s just be friends?" he said, a little softer.

Taeyong remained motionless, staring off at nothing for a little while, his legs out in front of him and heels dug into the carpet. This was Doyoung waiting for Taeyong’s reply. His heart raced. All the damage he’d done came rushing in at once, and suddenly, he realized Taeyong owed him nothing of the sort. This was just another selfish request on his part. Taeyong probably didn’t want anything to do with him after all this. And a moment later, Taeyong opened his mouth and said, dryly, "Get out."

And now they were both empty.

So Doyoung left. It took days for feeling to come back to him. He crashed at Taeil’s, ran on autopilot, somehow sat through classes, and even powered through a presentation before one afternoon, when he was in the dining hall with some sophomores he was supposed to be introducing to the major, it hit him. How _angry_ he was. 

He was fucking pissed. He was pissed as all hell. How could Taeyong fuck him up so badly, and when Doyoung wanted out, Taeyong made sure to jab the knife in and twist it before kicking him into the street? He was the one who’d dragged Doyoung down with him. Taeyong should’ve known how dangerous it would be for both of them. He knew himself better than Doyoung ever would, and there was no way in hell a guy like Taeyong could ever hold a healthy relationship, but how the hell was Doyoung supposed to have known that? Taeyong had used him. He’d taken advantage of everything Doyoung felt attracted to, every way Doyoung looked up to Taeyong, and used it. 

Doyoung had run on fumes for the next week, ripping papers and breaking things and screaming and crying hot tears until he tired himself out, and that was probably for the better, because days later, when he’d seen Taeyong for the first time during dinner with their whole friend group, Taeyong broke the news to all of them that he was going to America after they all graduated. 

Maybe Doyoung’s non-reaction then had hurt Taeyong, too. Taeyong had certainly looked a little off at the time, though it could’ve been caused by a million things. Doyoung was honestly just too tired at that point to give Taeyong the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt Doyoung, too. And that was probably for the better, for all of them. It was weird how the world worked that way.

It was weird how the world mellowed out the worst of problems into just bitter, unfortunate bumps in the road with time and a bit of luck, only to bring Taeyong and Doyoung back together now. Maybe things would’ve been different if Doyoung had made a scene at the restaurant when Taeyong broke the news. Maybe they would’ve fought physically. Maybe they really would never have seen each other again. They could never know. The only thing they knew was what was going on here, now, after they’d both grown and learned and changed and thought about things in ways they could never have in the past. 

"Five years, Taeyong," Doyoung said tiredly. " _Five years_ , without any sort of contact or—"

"You’re the one who dumped me!" Taeyong replied. They were more or less civil, and Doyoung’s head felt clear enough to emphasize what he wanted to emphasize, that how could Taeyong expect him back, perfect, completely unaffected, after not bothering to even try to contact him, and then just showing up all of a sudden, different but the same? How could he expect Doyoung to make completely rational, logical decisions? How could he expect there to be a perfect way to solve all of the problems that they’d created together? Taeyong clenched his teeth, and Doyoung sat up, his body reaction to his subconscious before he heard the footsteps. But Taeyong went on. "You would’ve just hated me more if I—"

The hostess appeared in the doorway then, and Doyoung kicked Taeyong under the table hard enough for Taeyong to cough again almost comically. Doyoung actually snorted a little bit. "Here’s your water, I’m so sorry for the delay," the hostess said.

—

They were sitting in the parking lot in the car Taeyong’s company lent him with the windows rolled down. Doyoung had taken public transportation here, and for some reason, he’d just naturally ended up following Taeyong to his car after they left the restaurant. It was three hours, from the time they’d made the reservation for to when they walked out the door, and it was chilly, and almost getting to that point in the night where people were starting to go home, even from their after-dinner bar hopping, and Doyoung was way too buzzed, metaphorically (he’d only had a single glass of wine), to even think about saying bye to Taeyong and hopping on the subway back to his apartment and jumping in bed and falling asleep like he would’ve on any other day.

It was cold, and the air between them was hot. Like a furnace. "Let’s talk," Taeyong said, looking out the driver’s seat window.

"Mm," Doyoung replied. 

Johnny and Taeil had wanted some sort of hybrid between traditional Korean food and the weird, hip Asian fusion shit they were doing back in America. Interestingly, Johnny was completely okay with the menu being all Korean food, but Taeil found that American kind of food fascinating, and Johnny’s family requested that, too. It wouldn’t be separated into an American dish, a Korean dish, and the vegetarian option, though. They had specifically requested for the foods to be integrated into all the courses, regardless of what main dish the guests picked. Though Johnny and Taeil getting married wasn’t exactly a marriage of completely different cultures, there were plenty of not-so-normal things happening in this, so having foods that were bland or tired would just be out of place. 

That was why Doyoung had picked a high-end restaurant on the river that specialized in presentation, taste, and the experience as a whole. Taeyong and Doyoung had been able to get it together after their little incident before dinner— they had always worked together incredibly efficiently, after all— and talked with the chef for hours planning the menu, tasting hundreds of menu options, sauces, rearranging things on plates, choosing between different grains of rices, lettuces in the salad, everything down to minor details, with their relationship completely compartmentalized into a cabinet to stew for a few hours. 

And now they were trying to open it. Doyoung wasn’t quite sure what would come out. Maybe something explosive, or maybe something frozen, hard like a rock, impossible to break into or understand. But they had to bring it out into the open at some point, and at least here they had a nice view.

"Do you… think I’m trying to toy with you?" Taeyong started quietly. 

Doyoung could answer that one. Taeyong, with certain things, would never joke. He’d take them almost too seriously. He’d never made breakup jokes or teased Doyoung about dumping him in the years that they dated. "No," Doyoung replied. "No, I— I know you wouldn’t do that."

"Even after everything I’ve done?" said Taeyong. He finally looked over to Doyoung, and Doyoung looked up to meet him, and Taeyong’s eyes were vulnerable. He knew. After all this time, he’d come to realize how much he’d affected Doyoung, too— that it wasn’t just the person being dumped who got hurt. And he knew how much his retaliation hurt Doyoung, and he knew that at the time, that was exactly what he’d intended. 

"Please," said Doyoung with a gentle roll of his eyes, and Taeyong raised his eyebrows a little amusedly. "You always take things too seriously. Moving away after a breakup? Accepting a crazy government job offer in a completely different country, leaving your friends and family, just because I said I wanted to take a break? You couldn’t toy with me if you tried."

Taeyong laughed. "It was pretty stupid of me."

"Stupid doesn’t even begin to cut it," Doyoung replied. After a pause, he added, "But it worked."

"What do you mean?" Taeyong said, turning to Doyoung again.

"I know I hurt you bad then," Doyoung said, looking down at his hands. "And I know you wanted to hurt me back. And it worked."

Taeyong brought his hand up to his mouth and rubbed at his lips in thought. "I— that was what I thought at first, too," he said. "I won’t deny that I… wanted to hurt you just as much as you hurt me. But after a while, even before I left, I started to really regret it. After all the anger went away and I just wanted you back, and I just wanted to say sorry."

Doyoung put his hands on his knees. If Taeyong had felt bad back then, he certainly hadn’t shown it. Though it wasn’t like Doyoung could really stand to look at him much either, and Taeyong avoided Doyoung at all costs too for the remaining semester before their graduation. "Then why didn’t you?" said Doyoung, finally. 

"I— I reasoned with myself that if you wanted space, this would be the best way to give that to you," Taeyong said. "I know, that’s… not what you meant. I know now, at least. I had a hard time then. I wasn’t thinking straight. I felt so bad, and so guilty. I felt like going back to you would be overstepping my boundaries."

"It wasn’t like I signed a restraining order, Taeyong," Doyoung said, and Taeyong snorted. "I— I asked if you wanted to be friends."

"And I told you already that I didn’t," Taeyong replied. "But I couldn’t wait for you. Even though I felt like I wanted to. It was nice seeing you then, even with everything that happened. Like catching glimpses of you on campus or at Taeil’s place. But it hurt so much, too, and I wasn’t in a place where I could handle that sort of pain."

"So you left," Doyoung said, and Taeyong nodded. 

"And it just got longer and longer," said Taeyong. "I kept meaning to contact you, but I kept chickening out. What if you hated me, or really didn’t want to hear from me at all? You had every right to, after what I did."

"Do you really think I’m that petty?" Doyoung said, and Taeyong glanced at him, making Doyoung grin a little tiredly. "Okay, I’m pretty petty." After two or three years, Doyoung did eventually realize that Taeyong moving away had just been a knee jerk reaction to a big crisis in their lives at the time, but he didn’t think he’d ever get to reconcile it like this. It was just one of those things he acknowledged, accepted, and put aside in the pile of things he wanted to forget about, because it would be better for everyone. 

"I was scared, and I didn’t want to ruin any chance I had," Taeyong said. "Because I kept thinking about you, and hoping you’d still talk to me if I called."

That’s where things were different between them in the years they were apart. Taeyong had hope, because he’d initiated this whole ordeal of physical distance between them. He was the one who’d left. It happened on his terms, and he was the one who’d been allowed to hope that Doyoung would take him back. Doyoung, on the other hand, had no idea what Taeyong had been thinking; he’d had no idea that Taeyong even felt bad for doing that to him, or that Taeyong even wanted him back. So he’d just learned to accept that he’d have to move on with his life. Taeyong’s hope helped him change the parts of himself he knew he needed to change, while Doyoung’s acceptance had given him some sort of inner peace. And now they were here, trying again. 

Doyoung wasn’t mad at Taeyong for taking all the hope for himself. If Doyoung had some of that, it would’ve just eaten away at him from the inside out. And Taeyong, for as dark a place as he’d been in, needed all of that hope and more just to find the strength in himself to change and come back. For Doyoung, that hope would’ve been toxic. While for Taeyong, acceptance would’ve left him stranded in a strange land living an empty life he knew he didn’t belong in. 

"Taeyong," Doyoung said after some moments of quiet. There were still the sounds of the occasional car going by, and late diners were leaving the restaurant, dressed all fancy and smelling of that expensive mix of sweet scents. "Can I kiss you?"

Taeyong sucked in a sharp breath that he knew Doyoung would hear. "Of course," Taeyong said, turning. He looked ethereal in the ambient light drifting from the city across the river. He was older, but he looked just as beautiful as he always had. Doyoung framed Taeyong’s face with his hands for a moment before threading them into his hair and pulling him in until their lips met. 

Taeyong’s lips were cold, but Doyoung felt fire jolt through him immediately. God, he loved Taeyong so fucking much. It was actually kind of hilarious how smitten he was for this man. Doyoung breathed in through his nose to stay lip-locked a little longer, and Taeyong’s hands instantly went to Doyoung’s sides, anywhere he could reach. It felt like Doyoung was freezing and burning up at the same time; he shivered and pressed Taeyong even closer and opened his mouth without Taeyong having to ask. Taeyong hummed low in his throat and nipped at Doyoung’s lower lip before tracing his lips with his tongue, and Doyoung let out a little whimper.

They didn’t even bother opening their eyes when they pulled apart, because moments later they were kissing again, Doyoung’s hands gripping at Taeyong’s hair now. They kissed hard and desperate, like they would never see each other again. It felt like making up for lost time. The way Taeyong kissed Doyoung made him feel like he was the center of the universe. Their tongues tangled together, and Doyoung moaned breathily into Taeyong’s mouth, refusing to let him go. God, he wanted to climb over the gear shift into Taeyong’s lap just to be closer, just so that their bodies could touch. Doyoung had never felt like he belonged anywhere more than he knew he belonged here now. 

"Fuck, Doyoung," Taeyong gasped with difficulty when Doyoung started sucking desperately on Taeyong’s tongue. "Let’s— I have to make it home, you know."

"I’m going with you," Doyoung replied in a whisper, pulling away but pressing their foreheads together, and Taeyong stared at him dazedly for a moment, then chuckled, kissing him hard one more time before pulling away completely and reaching for his seatbelt.

— 

Taeyong was staying at an extended stay hotel. Doyoung almost laughed when they pulled in, though it was definitely an upscale one. "The company has been having some issues finding me a place to rent that has parking and is gated and has Internet security to their standards," Taeyong grunted, and Doyoung couldn’t help but let out a small giggle.

The air hit Doyoung like a wall of ice, and Taeyong immediately wrapped an arm around his waist, shooting heat straight into Doyoung’s body and up his veins.

"Plus, I’ve been kind of getting used to it here," Taeyong added when they finally got to the elevator, empty in the nighttime though they only had to go up a floor. "Hotels are always so clean."

"You’re a riot," Doyoung said, letting Taeyong back him against the door when they got into the room, pitch dark until the door closed behind them and the dim lights flickered on. And then all Doyoung could see was Taeyong’s face right in front of his, caging him in, filling his entire world.

They kissed. And kissed. And couldn’t seem to stop kissing. Just the feeling of Taeyong’s chest against his was so familiar, and Taeyong’s hands on Doyoung’s square shoulders gave him butterflies, like he was a college kid again, head over heels for his first love. Doyoung’s arms still fell naturally around Taeyong’s shoulders, relaxed, while the noises Taeyong made as they kissed— grunts, low moans, little growls from the back of his throat— slowly started making Doyoung hard and desperate. And Taeyong seemed to think likewise, his kisses getting sloppier and filthier, his tongue diving almost deep down Doyoung’s throat and making him whine and hum around it, roping Taeyong in with his own tongue. 

They pulled away, and Doyoung could see absolute lust in Taeyong’s gaze. The way he stared at Doyoung, clouded with desire and a whole lot of impatience, and Doyoung was sure he was looking just as wrecked back. Something in how he looked must’ve been inviting, because the next moment Taeyong was pushing him away from the door and back toward the bed, huge and fluffy, neatly made until the moment Doyoung fell back into it, sinking into the comforter.

Taeyong tumbled on top of Doyoung and hovered over him, his fringe hanging into his face and casting a sultry shadow over his brow. Doyoung gasped as Taeyong went for his neck again and sucked at his skin while his forearms framed Doyoung’s face. And Doyoung spread his legs instinctually, knocking into Taeyong’s knees.

"Do you still… um," Taeyong gasped out when Doyoung grabbed at his hips and rolled their crotches together. 

"What, bottom?" Doyoung said a little snidely, and Taeyong glared at him, which almost made Doyoung feel bad. Almost. " _Yes_ , I still take it up the ass, Taeyong," Doyoung whispered, nibbling at the shell of Taeyong’s ear, and Taeyong groaned. "I’m guessing you still like to pretend your dirty little mouth can’t say shit like that?"

"It’s crude," Taeyong gritted out, and Doyoung laughed. Taeyong could be so hot and cold, flipping between extremes. If he was nervous he stumbled over his words and could barely collect himself enough to walk in a straight line, but when he was feeling confident, Doyoung was convinced Taeyong could become anything in the world. "I mean, I’ve had a few flings in the past few years, so I—"

Doyoung scoffed and pulled Taeyong down for a hard kiss. "Don’t think I haven’t dated people since I dumped you," Doyoung hissed against Taeyong’s mouth, and Taeyong laughed into his ear and climbed between Doyoung’s knees. Doyoung wrapped his legs around Taeyong’s waist almost naturally, and they fit there too well; it would’ve been comfortable, even, if not for the fact that they both had raging boners and if Doyoung had to wait any longer he’d be rutting shamelessly on Taeyong’s thigh. Doyoung tangled his fingers in Taeyong’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss, and Taeyong made a surprised but satisfied noise from the back of his throat. It sounded something like a growl, those deep, rumbly noises only Taeyong could make, and it went straight to Doyoung’s cock. God, he needed Taeyong in him _now_. "But none of them fucked me as good as you did," Doyoung said lowly, and Taeyong’s grumbling got louder. His hand went straight to Doyoung’s hip and under his waistband and pressed into Doyoung’s ass, and Doyoung arched his back with a fluttery whine, his crotch coming up to meet Taeyong’s abdomen. 

"Fuck, Doyoung, you can’t just—" Taeyong started, while Doyoung cut him off with a loud, exaggerated moan when Taeyong traced his dry rim with the pad of his index finger. Doyoung was impatient, and he wanted Taeyong in just as bad of shape. First, so that Taeyong couldn’t lord it over him, and second so that Taeyong could stop thinking so much and fuck him hard.

"What," Doyoung quipped. "Talk like that?" 

Taeyong laughed again, and the sound was soft and adoring. "You’ve always been a talker," he said, pulling away much to Doyoung’s displeasure. Doyoung let out a disgruntled noise and clung to Taeyong’s neck until he couldn’t and had to let himself fall back against the sheets while Taeyong sat up and took his time looking down at him. 

They were both still dressed, but it felt like Taeyong was raking his eyes over every inch of Doyoung’s body where his clothes hung off his skin and clung to the angles in his figure. Taeyong’s eyes were dark and intense, and Doyoung shuddered, letting Taeyong feel him and watching the shadow that fell over Taeyong’s eyes when Doyoung reached over to the windowsill and grabbed the bottle of lube and tossed it beside Taeyong’s knee. "I’ve gotten better though, right?" Doyoung murmured, kicking his pants off in a few seconds and staring up at Taeyong through lidded eyes. Taeyong always did like Doyoung’s closet of loose pants. 

"Better at what?" said Taeyong, his gaze glued on Doyoung and unmoving. 

"Being sexy," Doyoung replied pointedly, and Taeyong’s hands finally found their way to Doyoung’s legs, running up and down the smooth skin of his inner thighs.

Taeyong breathed hard at Doyoung’s little gasps and whimpers when his fingers neared Doyoung’s cock and kneaded the skin there, skillfully avoiding touching where Doyoung wanted him most. "You’ve always been sexy," Taeyong mumbled, and Doyoung huffed and replied with a petulant kiss to Taeyong’s mouth as he sat up to take Taeyong’s pants off for him. Taeyong laughed. "You’re just more aware of it now."

Taeyong wasn’t wrong. All the nights where Taeyong was forced to shower him with so many compliments they started becoming meaningless, only for Doyoung to brush them off with hunched shoulders. Doyoung bit his lip this time and blinked up at Taeyong, not quite beaming but not rejecting it either. 

In a surprisingly tender gesture, Taeyong shifted and touched the back of his fingers to Doyoung’s cheek. "Take all the time you need," he said, and Doyoung stared up at Taeyong, frozen as a wave of unfamiliar warmth washed through him. 

"I— I’m not like glass anymore," Doyoung stuttered out, pulling his gaze away when Taeyong moved to hold onto it. Heat flushed his cheeks; it was too much, for now. "You don’t have to be afraid anymore."

Taeyong sighed a sad noise that Doyoung was expecting; he braced himself to hold back the flinch of truth. Taeyong _had_ been scared before; not of him directly, but of hurting him. "I’ve always loved you," replied Taeyong, which Doyoung had finally come to see as also true. To negotiate the meetings of two extremes was just like Taeyong. 

Doyoung whimpered despite himself; it was a combination of the love and the tenderness and the sensuality of it all, how intimate they were, that blossomed through his veins and spread throughout his entire body, not forgetting to send a spike of arousal to his dick. 

Taeyong’s breathing became labored as he stared for a while, then finally decided to kneel down and push Doyoung’s thighs back until he was almost folding him in half. "Hold them there," Taeyong said gently, and Doyoung bit down on his lip and hid his face in his thighs, clutching at the back of his knees for dear life. "I want to touch you," Taeyong continued against Doyoung’s skin. And Doyoung wanted to see him, so he spread his legs just the slightest and stared down at Taeyong, who was breathing across Doyoung’s perineum and the bottom of his cock and where his thighs met his ass. Doyoung trembled when Taeyong pressed a soft kiss there while his strong hands kneaded bruises into Doyoung’s skin as if he couldn’t grab enough, as if just touching Doyoung was getting him off. 

Taeyong only noticed Doyoung staring when he started nipping at the backs of Doyoung’s thighs. The biting used to not do it for him, but now, in the midst of everything, every touch of Taeyong’s lips to Doyoung’s skin felt like fire, Doyoung’s cock pulsing in response even untouched. He let a soft, " _Please_ ," slip out, and Taeyong only sucked on Doyoung’s skin harder and laved long stripes across his inner thighs with his tongue, all while watching Doyoung this time, holding eye contact until a distinct flush ran across Doyoung’s cheeks. 

And Taeyong actually humored him, moving his hand to touch Doyoung, and it took everything Doyoung had to let go of his leg and use it to kick Taeyong’s hand away. "I swear to god, Taeyong, if you touch me now I’m going to come," Doyoung said panting, and Taeyong groaned, rolling his hips none too subtly into the sheets for friction. Doyoung’s hands scrabbled forward to grab at Taeyong’s nape and pull him down for a harsh, filthy kiss, one that had Doyoung’s tongue dipping into Taeyong’s mouth until Taeyong wrestled it back and pulled away only to press forward again as if fucking Doyoung’s mouth and sucking on his lips. When Doyoung was able to jerk back for longer than a moment, he whispered, "I want to come with your cock inside me," against Taeyong’s lips, and Taeyong shouted unceremoniously and grinded his hips into Doyoung’s perineum, sticky with dried saliva. 

The way Taeyong slapped around behind him desperately for the tube of lube Doyoung had thrown there earlier made Doyoung laugh a little and lean up to kiss Taeyong’s cheek and chin again. Taeyong was as efficient with prepping Doyoung as ever; though he didn’t have problems back in the day fingering Doyoung for hours until he came, Doyoung did it to himself better, and they did that too: Taeyong watching and jacking off as Doyoung chased his own orgasm with four fingers up his ass and Taeyong’s name spilling from his lips.

But this was what Doyoung wanted today, to be prepped fast so he couldn’t come yet, to be stretched a little more when he was just starting to get comfortable so he could take Taeyong’s dick sooner and feel Taeyong coming apart while fucking him.

It wasn’t the feeling of being penetrated that did it for Doyoung, though prostate stimulation certainly did help, but the thought that Taeyong, sweet, gentle Taeyong, felt comfortable enough to use Doyoung’s body to bring himself to orgasm. Thinking about it now made a jolt of pleasure run through Doyoung’s veins straight to his cock, right as Taeyong was spreading apart Doyoung’s cheeks with his thumbs. 

He took his time staring at Doyoung, and it was honestly hot, the patience and security Taeyong wouldn’t have had before to do whatever he wanted, to go from desperate and efficient to slow and teasing and making Doyoung wait for it. 

Doyoung, panting, lifted his head and stared between his legs down to where Taeyong was perched. "Taeyong," Doyoung said insistently.

"You’re so beautiful," Taeyong replied in a low, quiet voice, and Doyoung let out a sudden whimper, surprising himself, and his cock twitched visibly. 

Taeyong’s cock brushed against Doyoung’s entrance, and Doyoung tensed, waiting for Taeyong to line it up and push in. And Taeyong leaned down as he did, bowing his head and breathing harshly while Doyoung whined and whined until Taeyong fitted their lips together in a kiss that was more just panting into each others’ mouths and twisting their tongues together sloppily. 

"You okay?" Taeyong breathed, and Doyoung nodded, hooking Taeyong’s tongue back into his mouth for something to suck on while Taeyong pulled back and thrust forward again slowly. 

Doyoung broke away when Taeyong pushed in to the hilt and rasped out, "Hurry," and Taeyong laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

"We have time," Taeyong said, and Doyoung slung his leg across Taeyong’s bicep and kicked him in the back with his heel.

"I meant faster, you asshole," Doyoung hissed, and Taeyong laughed and rolled his hips into Doyoung, making Doyoung yelp ungracefully when Taeyong’s dick brushed his prostate. "Fuck, _there_ , harder," Doyoung mumbled, and Taeyong groaned, pushing Doyoung’s legs back flush against his chest and fucking him shallow and fast. 

Doyoung squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back as the pleasure built, the sensation of Taeyong hitting his prostate again and again drowning out the sounds of their harsh breathing and the rhythmic creaking of the bed where Doyoung’s back and Taeyong’s knees dragged against the sheets and smacked the headboard into the wall over and over. 

When Taeyong breathed across Doyoung’s neck and pressed messy kisses into his skin, Doyoung let out a long, drawn-out moan and gasped, "Taeyong, don’t stop, _please_ , fuck me, make me come," all rushed out until Taeyong was pulling out all the way and slamming into Doyoung again. It only took a few hard, desperate thrusts before they were coming at the same time, Taeyong smothering a shout into Doyoung’s neck and Doyoung keening, curling his toes and choking off a scream into a silent gasp and ragged sobs as he spurted onto his stomach and Taeyong fucked his stuttering hips through it. 

Taeyong knew when and how to slow down. Taeyong knew Doyoung liked to be fucked through it, taken care of, brought down slowly until they eventually came to a stop like it was natural. Taeyong’s dick twitching inside him had Doyoung moaning shameless and breathless even after they were both done; he grasped Taeyong’s face and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss that still somehow meant everything to them while Taeyong rolled his hips sensually while rubbing circles into Doyoung’s skin. They kept making little noises into each other’s mouths until it started getting funny, and Doyoung reached over for tissues while Taeyong pulled out, muffling little giggles into the inside of Doyoung’s knee. 

Doyoung threw the tissues at Taeyong petulantly, and Taeyong kissed him all the way down his leg while cleaning them up. "Wanna use the shower first?" Taeyong said gently, and Doyoung made an unhappy noise.

"I’m a morning showerer now," Doyoung said, and Taeyong hummed, surprised. 

"You’ll have to fight me for it," he said, pushing the comforter aside and crawling in next to Doyoung.

Doyoung stretched his legs out, feeling the burn in every joint and a dull, uncomfortable ache starting to develop in his ass. "I’ll suck you off," he replied, and Taeyong sucked in a breath and latched his lips onto Doyoung’s bare shoulder, throwing a hand over Doyoung’s waist.

—

Doyoung woke up in the middle of the night to an empty but foreign bed and very near went into a self-induced panic until he closed his eyes and got a big whiff of the scent that was undeniably Taeyong. That calmed his body down immediately, and it took a few moments for his mind to catch up, trying to remember everything that happened. For how neurotic Taeyong usually was about these things, it was surprising to find traces of lube and Taeyong’s come still in his ass, just as the soreness was about to kick in. 

Doyoung slapped around blindly for his or Taeyong’s phone and squinted at the screen. It was half past 3AM, and Taeyong was never much of an early riser. It would undoubtedly bother Doyoung to go back to sleep not knowing where Taeyong was, so he dragged himself groggily out of the bed and into the hallway, where a dim light from the dinette outlined Taeyong’s shadow. He was wrapped in a hoodie and shorts and sitting at the breakfast bar drinking something.

"Come back to bed," Doyoung whined in a raspy, sleepy voice. 

Taeyong glanced toward him and beckoned him over. "I couldn’t sleep," he explained once Doyoung slumped over on the counter across from him, and he busied himself with playing with Doyoung’s hair.

"How long have you been up?" Doyoung mumbled after a while, and Taeyong shrugged.

"Dunno, half an hour or so?"

Doyoung buried his face in his arms, shrinking away from the light. "You know that’s not good for you," Doyoung said, motioning to Taeyong’s glass. "That…"

Taeyong laughed quietly. "Milk?"

"What?"

Taeyong nudged the glass toward Doyoung, who looked up from the counter. "Relax, it’s milk."

Doyoung groaned, but laughed despite himself. Even during their college days, Taeyong never smoked much. And he always did have a carton of milk in the fridge, but Doyoung had assumed it was for cooking or cereal or coffee. "You’re such a kid," Doyoung said.

"It’s comforting," Taeyong replied. "Used to help me sleep. It doesn’t anymore, but I can still hope."

"I should drink less," Doyoung mused after a while, letting the soft light sink into his eyes and faintly registering Taeyong’s face, shrouded in shadow but still gentle. He was sitting on the hotel bar chair, his knees sticking out from behind the counter and looking fresh and skinny and like he did in college, only scruffier.

"You should," Taeyong said, but offered no judgments or reprimands. Instead he held his glass up to Doyoung. "Milk?"

Doyoung shook his head. "Lactose intolerant."

Taeyong nodded in response. "That’s another thing. I figured I might as well enjoy as much of it as possible before the inevitable."

They were quiet for a while, and in the nighttime of late autumn in a remote part of the city, the only sounds were the periodic click of the air conditioning vent and the occasional car passing by. There was really nothing to talk about at this point, not at this time of day. The deed had been done, and not even 5 hours had passed, and Doyoung could deal to live in blissful denial of everything for at least a little while longer.

"I don’t regret it," Taeyong said out of the blue, setting his empty glass down on a coaster. 

Doyoung reached up to brush away the line of milk that had formed on Taeyong’s upper lip, and he could feel the contraction of Taeyong’s muscles as he smiled under Doyoung’s thumb. "Don’t tell me you're one of those 'I only talk about deep shit at 3AM' kinds of people now," Doyoung said quietly, and Taeyong rubbed the back of his head again, looking at Doyoung with those goddamn sparkly eyes.

"No, I— I’m actually pretty groggy right now," he replied. "To be completely honest, I brought it up now because I figured this was the only time _you'd_ want to talk." Doyoung sighed and looked away, resting his neck in his hands. There was nothing to say, because Taeyong wasn’t wrong. Doyoung didn’t want to talk about it; he never did. Talking to Taeyong now admittedly was easier than before, but it still felt like pulling teeth, just with a weak localized anesthetic to numb things a bit now. "I don’t regret it," Taeyong repeated. "All the time we were together back then."

"I do," Doyoung replied immediately. 

Taeyong wasn’t fazed. "I’m sorry," he said instead. For as often as Taeyong apologized, Doyoung didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it. Taeyong always followed it up with something insightful and warm anyway, something he’d just thought of in that moment. "For making you… go through something you now regret."

"You didn’t make me. I did it of my own will," Doyoung said. Taeyong had a strong will, but he wasn’t strong enough to claim responsibility for Doyoung’s stupidity back then. It had all been mistake after mistake, but they were Doyoung’s mistakes to own. He could at least demand the agency to claim that much. "But yeah, you were the one who made it regrettable. At some points."

"Sorry," Taeyong said. 

Doyoung nodded and played with the ends of Taeyong’s fingers. His nails were short and smooth, like he’d bitten them compulsively down to stumps but at least remembered to file them afterwards. "I regret wasting my time with something I wasn’t ready for yet," Doyoung mused. "Wasting precious years of my youth obsessing over something that would just hurt in the end."

Taeyong said nothing, which was fine. If he’d tried to defend himself, it would’ve just been pathetic and insincere, while more self-flagellation wouldn’t have gone anywhere, anyway.

"But I think most of all, I regret having to take the time… to mend everything that happened with you," Doyoung added. Taeyong looked up then, his brow twitching with inquiry. "Before we could really start over again," Doyoung continued. "It would’ve been so much easier just to meet you now and do the cute things normal couples do. Holding hands, being all shy, the butterflies."

Taeyong smiled softly and squeezed Doyoung’s finger, which had come to rest on his own. "I don’t know about you, but I still get those things. The butterflies kind of things."

"After you fuck me in the ass?" Doyoung said flatly, and Taeyong flushed.

"Not when we have sex, but when you— when you say things like that," Taeyong sputtered. "Like how you want to be with me, or. Something like that."

Doyoung smiled a little to himself and kissed the tip of Taeyong’s finger before moving onto all his other fingers and giving them their fair share. Taeyong hummed in response and stroked his thumb over Doyoung’s lower lip, and oh, that definitely gave Doyoung a little flutter in his stomach. 

"You felt it," Taeyong said, and Doyoung frowned, jutting his lip out more and causing Taeyong to squeeze it under his thumb.

"Stop doing that," Doyoung said, and Taeyong laughed. 

"Okay," he said.

"Come back to bed," Doyoung demanded, and tugged on Taeyong’s hand, and Taeyong slid off the stool and left the empty glass on the counter and trailed after Doyoung.

"Okay," he said.

—

It was a month before the wedding, and they needed flowers.

"Oh my god, we need flowers," Doyoung said, lying naked face down in Taeyong’s bed, propping himself up on his elbows and flipping through his phone while Taeyong slept through the sunlight flooding the room in the early morning. Taeyong hated waking up, and Taeyong hated his birthday; thus, Taeyong hated summer. He was still living in that extended stay for undisclosed reasons. He and Doyoung had tried literally every restaurant in the nearby vicinity by now. They’d tried the ones that offered delivery and takeout multiple times, because they were adults. 

Christmas had passed by in a rush of feelings and temperatures just above freezing. Doyoung went back to visit his family for a few days, and Taeyong went with him. They spent the days leading up to the new year stuck on the road in a freezing rain storm, Doyoung pleading Taeyong not to drive in exchange for allowing Taeyong to pay for their hotels. Doyoung only agreed to _that_ condition with another condition that the hotels not be too fancy, four stars at best, then Taeyong propositioned that he treat Doyoung to every dinner, and Doyoung agreed if they could go Dutch for breakfast and lunch. Despite all this, they still squabbled over the bill at every meal. 

They christened all the hotel rooms, of course. Doyoung loved being fucked by Taeyong. Loved it a little too much, probably. In his defense, it had been a while. The last time he’d had sex was with this dude he met online, and it was horrible, and he didn’t even come. Taeyong on the other hand knew all his wildest kinks from his college years and seemed to bring them all up in rapid succession. So they fucked a lot and fought a lot, curled up in each others’ arms like just-turned-adults, not men nearing thirty. 

"We’re like kids," Doyoung pondered one night, sitting cross-legged in just boxers, eating a pint of overpriced ice cream from the hotel store downstairs. "Meanwhile Johnny and Taeil are getting married."

Taeyong had upgraded from plain milk to hot chocolate for the winter, and was nursing it from his place at the head of the bed. "I like it, though," he said quietly into his mug, and Doyoung heard him.

"I’m not used to being slow at things," Doyoung admitted, and Taeyong laughed. 

"It’s just another newly discovered part of yourself," he said.

Doyoung made a face. Ice cream for him was one of those things that he could eat all year around and be fine with. Today it was vanilla pecan marbled with veins of caramel and chocolate syrup. It was starting to melt around the sides, so Doyoung scooped out a big chunk and bit into it, sending a sharp jolt through his teeth for a split moment. "I don’t like it," he decided after a while.

"Well I do," Taeyong repeated. "Enough for both of us." 

Pointless conversations like this took up enough of their time that they didn’t have to discuss the cloud that loomed over both of them like rain when you knew you forgot to take out the trash last night. Five years ago, Doyoung would’ve thought different, maybe would rather have wallowed in his own misery for the rest of his life than enjoy a chance at hope and a whirlwind of apologies, acceptance, sex, and love for a fleeting couple of months. It wasn’t worth the heartbreak in the end, he would’ve thought. But now he was just grateful to take it at face value and deal with the consequences later. Maybe too much of Taeil had rubbed off on him, or being miserable for so long made him desperate and easy to please, or, in the wake of all this, he too was looking for somewhere to belong. He wouldn’t deny any of those possibilities. And, if not for his or Taeyong’s sake but for both of them, he’d enjoy the hell out of this until he had to see Taeyong off at the goddamn Incheon airport. 

Truth be told, Doyoung had known he’d made a stupid decision the moment he'd woke up that morning after the restaurant and the catering and the sex, and it was bright out and he _smelled_ Taeyong before he even opened his eyes and saw Taeyong lying next to him. It wasn’t a mistake per se, just a stupid decision.

Taeyong would leave. Taeyong was here for a year on contract, and he would go back to America after the wedding. It wasn’t like Doyoung hadn’t known this or chose to willfully ignore it. He couldn’t have come as hard as he did that night with something like that chained down in his brain. It was more that he’d come to accept it and made his decision to have sex with Taeyong anyway. Yes, it was a decision he’d made in spite of something he couldn’t control, and it was a stupid decision, but he didn’t regret it. He’d known he felt a bad sort of way about it, but it wasn’t like how he’d felt before. Regret was possibly one of the worst feelings, and he knew, intimately, what regret felt like. Possibly even more intimately than he knew Taeyong. And if he’d gotten through that, he could get through this.

The dull, bad-sort-of-way feeling that started cropping up from time to time since then was unfamiliar, but not completely unknown. It was like dread, but not as ominous. A little mild dread. With dread, the more you resisted it, the worse it got. Doyoung had learned at least that in his 25, give or take a few, years of living, with a little bit of unsolicited assistance from Yuta. So Doyoung had subconsciously accepted his dreadful life, perhaps, and dreaded the day Taeyong would have to leave, but it wasn’t like the dread had to be done away with. That was impossible. Taeyong would leave, so the dread would always be there.

Coming to accept it also meant that it didn’t have to take up as much space in Doyoung’s mind, so he’d learned to live with it around that time period of winter and early spring like a chipmunk that wouldn’t stop digging up the flowerbeds or an old friend overstaying their welcome and crashing on the couch for a few months.

What differentiated it more than acceptance, Doyoung came to realize as he spent more and more time with Taeyong, was trust. Dreading something was a lot less terrifying when inside, you trusted that it would turn out okay. When Doyoung’s trust in Taeyong was so strong that he knew, together, they’d _make_ it turn out okay. They’d gotten through so much, and they could get through this. 

"The wedding is at a fucking conservatory," Taeyong groaned when Doyoung shook him awake, chanting frantically that they needed flowers. "Go tell them to pick some flowers outside."

"No, the tables have to have centerpieces," Doyoung hissed, his hands cold on Taeyong’s bare shoulders, and after a while, Taeyong finally stretched. He moved to get up, only to grab the back of Doyoung’s neck and pull him down for a gross but bruising kiss, full of chapped lips and morning breath. "Ew," Doyoung mumbled but grinned and continued kissing Taeyong anyway. He’d never get tired of kissing Taeyong. Taeyong was damn good at kissing; he was sultry, smooth, and slow: overtly sexy, in an exaggerated way that was almost comical, but Doyoung loved it. "I don’t— even— know— any flower shops," Doyoung gasped out between kisses as Taeyong pulled him down so they were on their sides facing each other and tangled their legs together. 

"It’s okay," Taeyong said after a while of making out. They tended to get late starts whenever Doyoung stayed over. They both agreed to plan their weeks out around this rather than give themselves the chance to sabotage their careers and everything they’d worked for in the past five years. They were so drunk on what they’d missed with each other than they both knew they’d probably do that. It was safer not to make it a possibility at all. Taeyong sat half up and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, flipping through his emails while Doyoung lied beside him, stared at his chest, and rested his hand absently on it. "I know a good place. They’ll bend over backwards for me, too."

Doyoung snorted, and Taeyong flinched when Doyoung’s breath unintentionally hit his nipple. "How’d you manage to blackmail them so soon?"

"Oh, come on, do I seem like that kind of person?" said Taeyong, and Doyoung hummed and kissed Taeyong’s side. "I’m a loyal customer. It’s where I’ve been getting flowers for you for the past six months."

Spring had come and gone in the blink of an eye, with the rush to work on invitations, manage the headcount, orders, table numbers, grouping the guests together, finalizing the catering and decorations. Fortunately, a few of Johnny’s friends knew DJs that still had openings in late summer, though of course Doyoung had meticulously screened each one and eventually narrowed it down to a responsible-seeming young woman who charged more but had great reviews. 

It was kind of clichéd, but Taeyong being there made the days go by faster and the sleepless nights more bearable. A few times a year, Doyoung would wonder how he’d survived college on a limited budget, taking a million classes he had zero interest in, and managing to socialize, too, which he also hated. At least in grad school he could hole up in the library or in his room for days at a time, and while his cohorts were assholes, at least they were _knowledgeable_ assholes. 

This was the answer: it was Taeyong. Taeyong made him _want_ time to slow down. Taeyong taught him to wonder where the day went. Taeyong taught him to miss calls and forget to return them until days later when Taeil started machine-gun texting him until he called.

Taeil and Johnny were not surprised. They kinda picked up on it when Doyoung asked Taeil to collect the mail for him over the week of Christmas and was eventually pressed by Taeil into admitting that he and Taeyong were driving back to visit his parents for the holidays. Taeil pleasantly commented, "I’m glad things are working out well between you two," and it was Johnny who made a big deal out of it, texting Taeyong into the wee hours of the morning because he knew Doyoung was with him and wanted to make the most of it before it got old. It got old pretty fast, when Taeyong started texting him the gross details and Johnny immediately lost interest. Meanwhile, strangely enough, it didn’t bother Taeil, but he wasn’t the type to press for more either. That knowledge might come in handy at a later date, anyway.

Yellow might look good with the navy and cream theme. The florists and arrangers at the small shop agreed and cranked out a plan that Doyoung wouldn’t have been able to come up with if you gave him five years. "I told you they were good," Taeyong said over lunch, instead of telling Doyoung not to worry, because worrying was in Doyoung’s nature and Taeyong kind of loved that about him anyway, if it made him happy. 

Doyoung, with Taeyong’s help, came up with a pretty banging speech. For the bachelor’s party, at least, because they all agreed to make Taeyong give the speech at the reception for the sole reason that he was more likely to cry, and for whatever reason, Johnny’s mom loved seeing grown young men cry. It was pretty entertaining for the rest of them, too. Doyoung decided to bring up the time Johnny accidentally poured spiked punch all over Taeil’s hand at a party when Taeil asked for a refill and Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off of Taeil long enough to do a proper pour. There was also the time Johnny locked himself out of his room so Taeil invited him over but locked himself out of _his_ room, too, and they ended up checking in to a love hotel only to sleep in Taeil's car that night because the noises from the other rooms made it too awkward. They got together a week after that and fucked and missed their final, and they managed to glean doctor’s notes off of Jaehyun’s mom, an orthopedic surgeon, for two fractured left thumbs. 

"These two, out of everyone, deserve happiness," Taeyong was saying, all dashing in his custom fitted navy suit, his jacket hanging over his arm and vest sitting almost too well around his sharp features. Doyoung would’ve been emotional if his brain weren’t being constantly assaulted by different ways to get Taeyong out of that and Taeyong’s dick in his mouth as fast as possible. At least after this, he could check horny-at-best-friend’s-wedding-reception off his bucket list. "They’ve taught us— and everyone around them— so much about dedication, compromise, giving, caring, and just… love that’s pure, and whole, and greater than themselves and each other in this very moment— it’s love that’s about the past, and the present, and a whole lifetime together and more."

Okay. Here came the waterworks. Strangely, the last time Doyoung saw Taeyong cry was ages ago, when he was talking to his parents about Doyoung for the first time. Taeyong wasn’t out before that, and he’d just changed his major from business to behavioral science, and he'd had a meeting scheduled with his advisor the next morning and midterms the next two days after that. So they were sitting on Taeyong’s bed together while someone was blasting music from the floor lounge a few doors away, and Taeyong’s mom had just told him that everything would be okay, and that they’d support him no matter what, and regardless of whom he loved. Taeyong’s crying buttons were: overwhelmingly kind gestures when he felt like he was in a spiral of darkness. It wasn’t the darkness that did it for him. He didn’t even cry when Doyoung broke up with him, nor the days or weeks or months following. Whether it was out of relief, gratitude, or just an outpouring of emotions he’d been holding in for a while, or some combination of all of that, Taeyong always cried when someone gave him something he didn’t think he deserved. 

So Taeyong was crying and wiping his tears and snot away with his $400 floral cream button down. Okay, it was embarrassing, but Doyoung smiled a little tenderly anyway, because part of loving Taeyong was being okay with that, and even liking the part of him that was vulnerable and would never quite grow up. Doyoung loved that. He loved it a lot. That part was a cushion for Doyoung’s rigidity and sharp, abrasive edges, and all the horrible things _he_ didn’t really love about _himself_ either. That was okay, because Taeyong needed it, and needed him, and loved him enough for both of them. 

After a hefty applause, Taeyong made his way back to his seat next to Doyoung, and they sat in silence, holding hands under the table for a bit while everyone around them started shuffling around, chatting, drinking, moving to the dance floor, until they were alone, just the two of them, absently looking into the crowd. 

And Doyoung did what one normally does at weddings, slightly tipsy, about to graduate with a PhD, and with no solid future plans but somehow a whole lot of weight on your shoulders anyway. He let it all off. He let it all fall off in big, heaping motions like it was bricks disintegrating into big, fluffy feathers that floated side to side and eventually hit the ground. He squeezed Taeyong’s hand until Taeyong looked up at him, and Doyoung said, "So, I’ve been looking at consulting firms in Los Angeles."

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for just about ever, so first off, thank you all so much for reading! I haven't had that much time to write lately so it was slow cranking the rest of this out, but I'm pretty happy with it in the end. I hope I'll be able to put more fics out in the near future. Thank you guys for leaving your kudos and comments, too! I don't think words can really express how much they mean to me.


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